


The Known and The Unknown

by Deamiel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, M/M, Mystery, Parent England, Psychotic Russia, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deamiel/pseuds/Deamiel
Summary: "I need to find Canada." England paced the length of his humble home. Canada was a large country, so it was just bizarre to think he was so easy to miss. It was torture, renewing his hope like a fire then throwing cold water onto it so casually Matthew no longer bothered to care if America really remembered him. England, Canada, and Russia at Hogwarts (You know America will infiltrate somehow). RusCan and USUK





	1. Chapter 1

“I need to find Canada…” England paced the length of his humble home. His grey night shirt crinkled and blue sweat pants folded upwards tumbled down in haste as the lanky man stumbled across his plush cream carpet to the oaken wardrobe. Arthur Kirkland had seen better days, be it when a pirate stealing that ‘ _bloody Spaniards_ treasure’, getting rid of the slave trade with the help of African nations, winning over that prat by the name of Francis Bonnefoy at the battle of Waterloo ( _bloody wanker still wouldn’t keep his hands to himself_ ) and the Industrial revolution which England started with the matter of fact. Just to name the memorable few.

In the large mirror Arthur (England) blinked back wearily at the unrecognisable person. His shoulders limp in exhaustion, his vivid moss green eyes which normally twinkled with wonder were a dull forest of leaves shrouding a terrible truth, big bags of fatigue weighed down his eyes and his normal messy blonde hair had lost its lustre and sagged down in sweat and dirt. A hot long shower tempted the island making him lazily grab his normal garb, which complimented his eyes, and let a harsh downpour of burning water over ride the pain his felt convulsing his heart. His movements slow and uncoordinated meant he met only the minimum requirement of hygiene.

Leaving his Victorian home and crossing his garden blooming with purple foxgloves, untouched white primroses, wild pale yellow daffodils and the list goes on. But the man was not in the mood to slow and admire his nation’s beauties. His mind was blank with only the one thought. Finding the quiet maple loving nation.

Hailing the traditional black taxi to the rendezvous for the next world meeting the driver could not help but notice the fatigue represented in wrinkles on the man’s face.

“Not your day sir?” The man politely asked looking in his mirror flashing a sympathetic smile.

“You have no idea.” Arthur croaked out while his throat grated together like sandpaper much to his discomfort. The black taxi came to halt in front of a glass building. The sleek design and modern colour palette did well to Arthur’s eyes which had a hard time focusing.

The receptionist raised an imaginary eyebrow at Arthur’s clothing not ever having seen so much green adorn a person in a military style. But Arthur did not have the patience to indulge her in formalities.

“Arthur Kirkland for the World Meeting under Ludwig Beilschmidt.” The lady straightened up immediately understanding his status and the constant typing of her keyboard had Arthur nearly reaching out to pull out his issued hand pistol and shoot the ‘blasted’ piece of machinery but thankfully she stopped to send a dazzling wide smile in his direction. He turned to ignore her as he felt a pounding headache surface and drum painfully against his skull.

“This is the Delta room on the second floor, coffee and tea can be ordered on the ground floor or I can get back to you. Is there anything you would like?”

“A pot of chamomile tea with no sugar or milk.” Arthur grumbled out and walked away without a second glance. He had no time or energy for gentlemanly acts. Right now he need to concentrate on his job. The meeting room was spacious with simple pastries on a table on the edge to help the countries coming earlier to pass the time quicker. Much to his surprise Italy jumped up from his seat and flood into tears as his face contorted into pure horror.

“Ve! Doitsu they have a-no pasta!” He hollered like the world was ending in mere seconds. Germany a larger man armed with a frustrated expression grumbled with displeasure as his super senses tingled to warn him of an upcoming fight starting.

“Nein, Itaria pasta is not alloved in meedings. You knov zis!” His german accent thick and shrouded with irritation with having to face the same reaction at every meeting. The hard guttural sound of his voice intensified Arthur’s headache as the man slumped onto a seat on the U-shaped table far from the commotion.

“Is zerre problem, ~komrrade? I brought my faucet pipe of pain in kase I need it~.” Russia entered with the loud thumping of his leather boots as his porcelain white large hands held a metal faucet pipe with a ‘U’ ending covered in flaky outdated dark blood. The rest of the pipe was shining in the bright light of the room straining Arthur’s eyes when he glared at the pipe. It had been well kept considering the amount of scratches and the numerous times Arthur had seen him use it.

“No, Ruszia, no pipe. Ach! Itaria stop crying and zit dovn and efferyone get to your zeats. Ve’re starding early.” England could almost hear his brother’s mocking tone shoot through his head, ‘ _Tauld ye englain. Ye, cannae e’en handle yerself at th’ meetin’ hoo did te handle th’ British Empire?_ ’ Arthur gritted his teeth and swallowed down harshly and looked up with slight forced smile.

“Oh mon Prussia, Spain what a gluhmy dai. Eez zis 'ow England wents to treat 'is guests. England yur country, sairry ai meent island, eez goeng to drown itsélf at zis raté.” And there when his smile. England glared, well as threateningly as he could in his weakened state. However his mind scolded him for wandering and he set his eyes to lazily scan the room for Canada and his bear- Kumajiro if he remembered correctly. When one wanted to see the shadow of a nation one needed to have a clear mind and solely concentration on finding Canada. His presence is very easy to dismiss if you don’t pay attention.

‘ _Arthur Kirkland reduced t' representin' a country in a meetin' room t' shuffle paper fer th' next five hours. How life has changed. Bein' a Corsair were bein' more fun and it kept me on th' front lines._ ’, The pirate inside of him exclaimed the next line roughly, ‘Ye idiot, hoist the mainsail, with a chest full of booty!’ Seems like he was addressing a deck cleaner, ‘ _Now I feel like th' political figures I used t' swear at so much fer honeyed lies_ ’ England gritted his teeth and swore loudly to show he was the dominate one in this body before grumbling a little agreeing statement.

“The avezome Prussia is here. Bov before me!” Germany ticked off on his register and looked disapprovingly at the albino before returning to the list. Prussia boldly laughed and sat down and got a slap on the back from Spain as they both laughed. Gilbird, a pale yellow chick on Prussia’s head, chirped in tune with the laughter.

“Ja, next is France.” A fair skinned man stood and flirtatiously blew a kiss into the air while swinging his delicate rose around with the other hand. England never understood how a, dare he say, handsome man like France could be easily labelled by a stranger to be a pervert. All that was left was for it to be tattooed onto his forehead.

“Unfairtunate-lee ai am present een zis uselez meeteng.” France ran his fingers through his hair and gave a stomach sickening smile, which somehow ensnared decent women in his vile flirtatious acts.

“Zit dovn France and shut up. Next America?” There was silence and England happily let a smile adorn his face, even if it was weak, the boisterous American was nowhere to be seen. This meeting suddenly got a hundred time better than before.

Much to Arthur’s distress the double doors slammed open to introduce an energetic large man in a tan bomber jacket and a face splitting grin. Behind him the receptionist entered quietly with a mixed expression still wondering how she should react to the larger man’s entry to a potentially critical meeting.

A pot of tea and cup was soundlessly placed in front of him which made Arthur smile back apologetically, somehow the island still felt responsible for the larger nation which probably stemmed from his parenting days. The woman left with a worried and quizzical smile and shut the door firmly behind her. The recently soundless room exploded with a mirage of chatter and emotion. Somehow the world started to spin around Arthur.

“Yo, the hero is here. Whazzaup Germany!” England bit back a retort on proper English but he already knew how the conversation would end.

“Late akain America. Zome zings vill not be tolerated, zit next to Japan.” America bounced enthusiastically over to the nation with a façade of indifference painted firmly onto his face. Japan acknowledged the American with a polite and reserved nod but froze at the sudden slap on his back, as the American greeted him violently.

“On to the meeding. Ve haffe France talking about the hygiene of public spaces.” The feminine structured man slandered over to the front as America caught England’s gaze. But the island quickly cut it off opting to sweep the room with his eyes concentrating solely on Canada.

England sitting in the middle of the U shaped table had a perfect view of France’s pompous speech and everyone sitting on the table. Scouting an empty chair England concentrated, much to his distaste, only to notice the space stayed blank. Startled about the occurrence he tried to casually arc his gaze along the room to see anything out of place. Italy was dazed and mumbling about pasta. Germany was multitasking to listen to France’s speech and prudently watched others to find anyone misbehaving. Prussia was grinning with pleasure and listening to the constant chirping of Gilbird while occasionally chuckling darkly for an upcoming prank. Spain and South Italy fusing over something England had no time to care about, hushed swearing and empty threats were all he heard.

Russia on the other hand was an empty seat either side of him, much to England’s surprise, his larger frame was sufficiently wrapped in a large tan coat which was buttoned up tightly, reminding him of the Red Army coat with the colours reversed. His hands uncovered to reveal smooth pale skin, which only added to his intimidating features, as they worked diligently to effortlessly glide a black pen across his page. His pastel ashen blonde hair fell conveniently covering his eyes crossing between a nightfall of amethyst and byzantium glowing eerily with childish innocence. Wait. His lips were moving. England narrowed his eyes suspiciously then a faded outline came to his view. It was Canada.

England was beyond stunned as the large frosty was being badgered by a smaller frame in a Canadian light tan winter coat reaching his knees. The Canadian was seated carelessly on the desk next to Russia’s paperwork with an astounding smile etched into his features. His petite stature giggled with laughter as he politely brought his gloved hand to his mouth but that did not help contain the laugh. Canada’s abnormally meek voice was replaced with fireworks of giggles. Ocean deep glittering blue eyes were a cross between shadowy lilacs and crystal clear Mediterranean cerulean. Some confused his eyes for blue or purple but England couldn’t decide personally, he liked Canada the way he already was.

“So during the Crusades you were attacked by”, Canada couldn’t stop the flurry of giggles erupting, “the Teutonic Knights where you killed them by chance by drowning them in freezing waters!” The Russian let out a low chuckle before resuming his work quietly. The others near Russia nearly ran to the other side of the room expecting a faucet pipe to the face but a glare from Germany left them silently whimpering. They had enemies on both sides.

“How did you manage that?” The Canadian’s light airy voice was shockingly firm as he swung his legs over the edge of the table like a child.

“No let me guess, you said it was during the winter right. So the lake was probably frozen to say in the least. But what made them sink…oh yes their armour if I’m correct they wore a lot of chainmail and metallic plating so that added to their weight and the ice could only take so much. That is so cool Russia, even if you didn’t plan it.” Much to England his ex-colony jabbed at the dormant reincarnation of Satan (maybe) without a care in the world.

Frozen. He waited and waited. But it never came. The metallic pipe was not armed by the childlike Russian instead he chanted his usual laugh, trying to muffle the noise with his other black leather gloved hand. ‘ _Shit, I’m still sleeping. I need to wake up. Yes, I’m dreaming._ ’ England muttered to himself which caught the attention of America who was about to voice his concern when Germany, having the perfect timing interrupted the flamboyant nation.

“Can you hand out zis papers…erm Ruszia?” The strict man picked at random and Russia obediently stood up, followed closely (damn it, is he trying to get himself killed) by the timid Canadian.

The Russian effortlessly picked up the dense stack of paper, his leather gloved hands grabbed half the stack and Canada approached the pile and eyed the papers like they were his enemies. He watched closely and assessed his strengths as if contemplating if he could carry it. Russia sent him a soft look, as if to encourage him gently, and the Canadian steeled his features and grabbed the rest. America who couldn’t help himself let out a high pitched girlish scream.

“Mother Fucking hell. Its floating, shit Nihon do you see this! Iggy it’s a ghost save me!” England was highly tempted to exploit his situation but he groaned at his next sentence.

“You Commie bastard what voodoo shit did you pull!” As if by magic a thick bundle of paper was slammed into the insane American’s face. The man, who was moments ago waving his hands around wildly, stood immobile and slumped into his seat.

“Zanks Canada.” Germany spoke sternly, many swerved around and sent a questioning glare to Germany as if to as if he needed a check-up as no one was there to smack the American. Some would have spoken up if it hadn’t been Russia who was accused. England focused his attention to the faint outline of Canada which soon focused and became coloured. The once humble and passive man frowned with a look of disappointment at his twin. He gazed up to catch England looking at him in pure amazement, and all the younger nation did was wave innocently at his guardian with a modest victorious look.

“You did not have to Komrade. I vould have handles it and made him one vith Mother Russia.” As if to prove his point he features darkened and he finished with spine chilling chant. Canada made immediate eye contact and only smiled knowingly.

“He was getting on my nerves anyway, maple.” The others looked at Russian as if he was delusional but some were, excuse my language, ‘shitting bricks’ at his threat. Having a childish Russian the size of a bear was enough. Having a hallucinating, childish Russian the side of a bear was an over kill. Fate had a weird way of, again excuse my language, ‘fucking’ people over.

Germany continued but America quickly got bored after having awoken from his stupor, even if he had been quiet for a good half an hour which was unusual for him, and jumped onto the table. Much England’s horror America pointed to him with a megawatt smile.

“Artie watch I’m gonna prove I can be amazing at this…ah thing!” He jumped off the table, and Japan clapped his hands together in a reserved fashion but stopped after feeling a heated glare from Switzerland, the tall man stalked over to the front with a warning stare from Germany. But he made no stupid comments. No he contributed in a still obnoxious voice. But England was further growled in annoyance, there was only one explanation for all this nonsense. England was sleeping. It was so obvious. It had been forty five minutes and no tables or chairs had been harmed so far.

The meeting went on with England ignoring everything around him, his pounding headache deterred him from concentrating on anything but the minutes trickled into hours then Germany let out a sigh of relief.

“Zat vent betder zan exbecded. Ach! Spain stop molesting Zouth Idaly and lisden.” He heard a squeal to his side and glared pointedly at the perpetrator, “Arg, Gilbert stop trying to scare Itaria and America calm dovn and stop chumbing on your zeat.” America was flashing his dazzling smile in England’s direction but flattered at the blank look he got. The fall in America’s smile clenched something in England’s heart as he remembered how America used to run to him whenever he was upset. With great exertion he tilted his lips upwards to revive the bright smile on America’s face.

“Nov, tommorov zere is no meeding. But I expect kood behaviour,” Gilbert strung his arms around France and Spain only to start whispering (more like screaming) about going out to lift a drink together, “and no Gilbert you may not vaste yourself in ein pub. You are dismized.” As if magic was cast there was large rush to run out the room. ‘ _So much for finding Canada in this stream…I swear this room will burst at the seams if this continues.’_ England stood and shuffled his papers together with a pained look flourishing on his face. He pressed towards Germany’s angry form.

“Nice to meet you Germany.” Germany piqued an eyebrow but saw England shivering in his clothes and turned his posture with more concern. “I was wondering if you can give me Canada’s address I need to discuss some important matters with the fellow.” Germany narrowed his eyes but did not fire any questions, taking out his file he had catalogued where everyone was residing so if there was an emergency they could locate everyone easily.

“Here.” Germany wrote in clear writing the address and turned as Italy grabbed his hand wailing about ‘his country running out of pasta’.

“Vait Itaria a-” Germany was about to try and assist England more but the fatigues man could only wave him off. Not noticing a pair of apprehensive eyes shadow his every move.

“Your help is much appreciated.” And England walked away, with a slight limp and swaying more side to side then normal, to say Germany was worried was an understatement. He knew something big was going to happen. And very soon.

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Canada was a large country, sorry I mean second largest, so it was just bizarre to think he was so easy to miss. Alfred, America who was actually his younger brother (shocking I know) all because Matthew could learn his alphabet first, had a tendency to pop in and out of remembering Canada altogether. It was torture, renewing his hope like a fire then throwing cold water onto it so casually Matthew no longer bothered to care if America really remembered him. Father, England, and Papa, France, remember him more the America could put together in a year. There was a time when Canada hated America’s guts and admired the obnoxious man. He could make friends so easily and fit in so will without having to change his personality. ‘ _Did people like to be near reckless people would don’t think before doing anything…’_ Canada always wondered and even asking Kumajiro but all be got in return was a ‘who?’ So he wondered if there were other people out there who could be noticed easily. And that person just happened to sit on him, not a first good impression, but Canada was hooked immediately.

Russia was…strange for lack of a better word. When Canada first saw him he didn’t see him, no. Canada was seated away from the door so he had his back to it therefore he had not known Russia had entered. No, he _felt_ the dangerous man’s entrance, when Russia strode in he flooded the room with a slipstream of frosty cold air. Canada had stiffened up and turned cautiously in the stranger’s direction. A childish smile adorned his lips as he walked with a beat in his step. His long light pink scarf fluttering behind him while his thick black leather boots thumped against the carpeted floor. His eyes blazed with curiosity, however there was a hostile edge to it, Canada shivered uncontrollably as those vibrant amethyst eyes swept over him.

“Everyone vill bekome one vith Mother Russia, da?” His voice light and airy with an innocent ring to it but those words meaning were heavy as lead ready to crush you without mercy. His near-white complexion had Canada’s head spinning, _this…man is an artic nation. Oh maple._ Canada could only comment before it went downhill. The room was completely empty, even Germany was not here yet.

The Russian’s shoulders sagged like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His smile cracked and fell to pieces at his feet to be replaced by forlorn and pity. Even his laugh, consisting of chanting ‘kolkolkol’, resembled depression.

“Who vould be vith Mother Russia. Mother Russia kould only hurts people.” The large man exclaimed with a hoarse shout. His voice grating in desperation of acknowledgement. Arms flung open looking up to talk to no one. ‘ _Merde he is being personal if he found out I’m here…merde’_ Canada could only repeat finally recognising his invisibility as a blessing.

Fate was cruel. Of all the seats available to the large man he decided he wanted to sit on the seat Canada was occupying. Canada felt something prickle at his neck, swallowing hard the Canadian could only try to sink deeper into the chair only of the heavy man to get ‘comfortable’ on him. As if lightning struck the depressed man he leaped up and whipped out a metallic faucet pipe and armed it viciously to his side. Canada could only whimper as Russia’s eyes assessed him vigilantly making sure the pipe was tensed for an attack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Je suis désolé! Je ne voulais pas empiéter."(Sorry! I did not mean to intrude.) Canada stuttered out as a choke. The Russian analysed the trembling nation with wary but lowered the pipe in stunned silence. One word changed it all. "Matvey?" Canada's eyelids exploded open as he looked flabbergasted at his name being spoken with disbelief. Removing his arms which he placed protectively in front of him he saw conflict in Russia's eyes. "You know me?" Canada, or Matvey, tumbled over his words as the Russian immediately got rid of his pipe and smiled with glee.

"Da!" He answered happily, or whatever was close to it, he wasn't like America and respected Canada's space. "Please forgive me, da. I did not see you." Russia carefully placed his large hand over his heart with a sad twinge in his eyes. Canada felt forceful heat rise to his cheeks from the excitement of someone else noticing him. "No!" Canada stood defensively and watched Russia's childish smile return to his face.

"I was intruding, but I must ask where you know me from?" Canada flushed more deeply having admitted that he had not noticed Russia being familiar with him. The Russian looked at him with a whirlwind of emotions flickering in his eyes but he locked them up even more tightly when they decided to escape.

"You are the second largest country, I have to know, da?" Canada's eyes widened at the revelation and looked around nervously to shake off the burning sensation of his cheeks. Russia watched the smaller nation closely. Some say Canada and America were twins and Russia would have admitted to agree. But times change and Canada was the polar opposite to America. Canada had lighter skin while his hair was a wavy light blonde with a golden halo compared to America who was slightly tanned with straight deep honeycomb brown hair. Canada wore more winter jackets and carried around a polar bear while America dressed in his own wacky style and was terrified of ghosts, so much that Russia was tempted to threaten to release ghosts into America instead of launching nuclear weapons. Lastly Canada was Russia's favourite out of the two, the young one was hard working and dedicated to being helpful, something Russia could even admire.

"I start, da? Preevyet Canada." Russia held out his hand and all Canada could do was blink questioningly at it. Everything clicked and Canada quickly clasped Russia's gloved hands into his own with a warm smile of pure joy.

"Salut Russia. How are you?" Canada asked politely. Something told him it was going to change everything. "Da, I am good. I am sure Matvey has many friends but I would like to be one." Canada sucked in a large gush of air and held onto it. Russia looked down curiously with a hint of concern. "Oui, Russia that would be great, oh maple I don't have any other friends I'm afraid." The Canadian mumbled with a crestfallen face.

"Da. Then I is Canada's first!" The younger nation spluttered in surprise, Russia had somehow phrased the statement in such a way that Canada's cheeks were literally caught fire.

"Oui, Russia, you are my first friend." Canada reiterated, loving the way it rolled off his mouth in disbelief. Russia smiled his usual glee filled smile and sat down heavily, collapsing into the chair without a care for the creek it moaned out in protest. Canada sat down more carefully and eyed the Russian warily, having seen different relationships between other countries he wondered how his and Russia's relationship would turn out to be.

"Why are you early, Russ-sia?" Canada tripped over the larger man's name but he took no notice of it. Russia shuddered comically, much to Canada's confusion. ' _Mais I thought Russia was not afraid of anything…well according to America who says Russia only terrorises people.'_ Canada thought.

"Da, my sestra can be very, ah prityazhatel'nyy, in English controlling, I think." Russia attempted. Hesitant with his answer while taking a wild swerve of his neck and cupped his mouth to whisper, as if speaking about her will make her magically appear in front of them. Canada leaned in to strain his ears and choked on the revelation.

"Il ne peut pas être." Canada stared unfathomably, his mind suppled him with spitfire images of Ukraine holding a knife and crackling evilly, while chasing down an unconceivably petrified looking Russia.

"Erm, Russia are you sure Miss Ukraine will do such a thing?" Canada watched Russia's features soften as his older sister's title but burst into a chorus of laughter. "Nyet, Canada!" The Russian continues to laugh heartily, Canada felt his neck prickle as Russia's voice hung in the air, feeling beyond flustered Canada averted his eyes but was forced to turn back when Russia leaned in closer than before.

"Moy sestra Belarus." Canada stiffened immediately having his personal space so closely invaded with his knowledge. Tundra like coldness infected Canada's warmth, having felt goose bumps under his heavy coat for a long time Canada could not move away.

"Mein got, Itaria. Sdop or nein pasta for ein month." A grasp of horror identified himself as Italy. German entered with a strict posture and didn't waste time to get all his equipment out for the meeting. He swept his surroundings like a hawk and raised an eyebrow as how close Canada and Russia were. It looked like Canada was centimetres from kissing Russia's pale cheeks. ' _Mein Gott, I ein drink_ ' German cleared his throat and spoke sternly.

"Canada, Russia," the German eyed the larger country emotionlessly before returning his gaze to Canada, "need anything?" The silent ending hung in the air like a disease, Canada cringed nervously observing Russia's reaction, nothing. Well if a smile of pure childlike innocence could be anything, underneath Canada could feel the stirring of anger. Something Canada understood was when you are almost always, well ninety-nine percent, invisible to others if he watched people's faces carefully he would notice the flicker of dangerous emotions on their faces before they expertly covered it up. But Canada noticed. He saw that millisecond of rage pulse once before leaving an empty slate.

"Non, I am fine, Germany." Canada spoke firmly, something he prided himself in when confronting Germany, it stemmed from WW1 and WW2 in which Canada was a tactical genius and a skilled field operator. Germany nodded and left the room after staring suspiciously for a few seconds.

"Canada is friends with Germany?" Russia asked, his voice cold and grated like sandpaper rubbing harshly against Canada's eardrum. Russia had his back to Canada opting to stare indifferently at the spot Germany had stood in.

"No." Canada spoke, finding confidence from some god damn well of bravery."He is like that with everyone when you are around." Canada responded without a second thought. ' _Merde!_ ' Canada screamed internally. "Da, he is…" Russia answered monotonously. Clearly affected by Canada's brutal honestly.

"Je suis désolé, Russia." Canada didn't trust himself to continue, so instead he placed a careful hand on Russia's coat. Tight coil of muscles twitched under the tan coat but Russia stilled, waiting and observing.

"Da, Canada be careful next time." The words danced innocently in the air as Russia twirled with a devouring smile itched into his face, his spine-chilling amethyst pools sized up Canada's stature before he left, swinging his hands back and forth. But his feet, or heavy leather boots, made no noise against the carpeted floor. Canada collapsed into his chair before huffing out a long held breath.

' _Fukeneh just fukeneh!_ ' Canada wanted to scream, yell and cry, he knew how sensitive Russia turns out to be but Canada just knew too much. Being a spectator had its strengths but he needed to careful as to what he lets out. "Maybe I lost my first friend…" Canada muttered slumping into the plush seat.

"Matvey!" Canada chuckled. ' _Great now I'm hearing things…_ ' Canada stood and dragged his feet to the door, glaring at the floor with self-hatred.

"Euh," Canada was hit head first into a thick soft material. Brown dominated his vision as he blinked, confused. Looking up he saw Russia grinning, pearly whites gleaming dangerously in the light, a rare rush of heat flooded over his face and body.

"Russia! Je suis désolé de nouveau." Canada squealed, feeling guilt wash over him, this was the most embarrassing day of his life. ' _I bet Russia_ _probably looks down on me now._ ' Canada revelled in his misery.

"Da, I did not know I was very comfortable to sit on Matvey." Russia stated care freely, Canada glanced down now he was literally sitting contently on the older man's chest.

"Je s-suis dé-desolé." Canada stuttered out again, cheeks permanently stained red with embarrassment. Scrambling off the man like a retreating prey, Russia stood effortlessly and allowed a grin to slip onto his face. His sharp incisors obvious in the light, but nevertheless the man reached into his pocket. "Prosti Matvey. Here." Canada was handed a piece of paper with numbers and letters with curls and loops added abundantly.

"When you is free, Matvey can call me and we can play!" Russia exclaimed like the world was gifted to him.

"Huh," that was all Canada could manage at the moment.

 


	2. Visits

England watched trees pass rapidly past him, the large green rushing blur left England grimacing in discomfort. Opening the window of the cab, the driver glanced back at the noise but returned to the road, they had just left London’s traffic. Some would say the English love to queue because they would only move a few inches every hour, ‘I really need a vacation.’ England groaned.

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Canada scurried like a lost child around his home, quickly picking out anything out of place, making sure anything and everything stayed set to perfection. Why? Well, Russia was visiting, of course. The mere thought of the Russian looking at his house and entering it sent Canada’s heart fluttering, like a sundry of butterflies taking flight simultaneously. Whenever father or papa visited they knew Canada but when a friend visits the nervousness accompanied with excitement sent Canada’s knees shaking like an earthquake. He wanted to look good, share his likes and build on their relationship. When his parents visited he did not care for presentations and first impressions it was too formal. But with his friend visiting one of his homes for the first time he felt the need to impress.

He dumped all of America’s stashed computer games into the loft, France’s sensual looking gifts and paintings locked in a cupboard in his store room and all of England’s tea set had been carefully polished. Something Canada understood was America’s obsession with making England proud was that England was just someone you would look up to. England had that aura around him and personality which made him a harsh judge of people and he has never ever has complimented someone. Never had Canada ever heard England say the words ‘like’ or ‘love’ in a sentence. So when England suffered after America’s departure, from a colony to a country, Canada stood by England’s side. Waiting before asking, keyword ‘asking’ not ‘starting a revolution’, for independence. He remembered when he uttered those words England had completely shut down for a month. The man had holed himself in his house for weeks until Canada had enough. He broke into the man’s house and promised to never leave him, as a son and friend, only wanting to grow into an admirable nation but not sever ties in the process.

Canada would never forget the day that England distanced himself from Canada but after a while, he got used to it. Seeing their children leave them after having spent years of nurturing and protecting them must have been hard, England was not a person who easily let go. But Canada somehow felt an unknown buzz of pride, ‘If father saw me now, being friends with one of the most powerful countries, what would he say?’ it didn’t frighten him anymore. To be seen with Russia, walking in step with each other, laughing away his worries and sharing his problems with the older male. No, Canada felt lucky he found someone to share his emotions with. Eyeing a bouquet of sunflowers open with their sunset orange petals contrasting with their large brown seeded middle. He smiled lightly at the present he received for some reason. He thought back to the end of the meeting…

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Canada was immediately encased in a large pair of arms. Russia packed away his belongings, with speed rivalling a thunder strike, pulled at Canada’s waist and gave him an affectionate bear hug. Canada spluttered in shock as the comforting heat was smothered onto him plentifully. Walking leisurely through the crowd while all the other nations leap out of his way, trying to not shiver in the man’s presence.

“Russia?!” Canada choked out but Russia could only chuckle ominously before tightening his arms around the petite Canadian. The younger nations smelt distinctly of charred wood, burning soothingly and coaxing the Russian to bury his face into the Canadian’s soft neck. Canada feeling the change in position grasped, embarrassingly, and arched out of the reach of cold skin against his glowing skin.

“Kolkolkol. Matvey, very warm, I want a Matvey toy to sleep with, da?” Canada looked down at the Russian, scandalised, but immediately sucked it up when met with a genuine longing expression.

“Non Russia,” Canada mumbled helplessly, “you don’t need a toy when you have me!” The Russian grinned widely at the notion of Canada playing along with his charade. ‘Da, a Matvey toy is not good as the real Matvey.’ The Russian cleverly supplied in his brain. Canada’s arms tightly entwined around the Russia’s neck over his pastel pink scarf. It had taken Canada two years for the man to allow Canada to touch his scarf so openly otherwise Canada knew it was forbidden territory. It was the only thing with Russia had left from Ukraine which showed that she still loved him and cared for him.

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Apparently when the USSR collapsed Ukraine had elaborated with a heavy heart that she had said the cruellest things to Russia, leaving the childlike man in an empty home with no family to turn to. When Canada heard this confession everything clicked in his head. How Russia would monotonously ask about his meetings, be it formal or informal, with the other countries and what they wanted. Canada understood, unlike most people, that Russia was simply extremely insecure. Though sometimes it felt like he was being invaded, ‘But I guess not all relationships start off with sunshine and rainbows’ Canada countered logically, though to others it would have been weird and slightly concerning at how Russia got along with some mystery person so easily.

Canada shook off all negative thoughts and thought back to the meeting…

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Russia walked casually, though the others his posture denoting a threatening outlook, even the cleaner skittered off to a random meeting room much to Russia’s childish amusement. Canada huffed and waited, he had grown used to being dragged around (man-handled) by Russia. And he knew if he complained Russia would only enjoy himself more so he looked around quietly.

“Mattie!” America’s voice rang, echoing in every nook and cranny of the building, Russia irked by the noise quickened his pace and slammed into his office. Every country had an office rented out for a day to perform meetings face to face with another individual without involving everyone else. Slamming the door closed and locking it swiftly without a second thought Russia dumped Canada onto a plush seat, much to his amusement as Canada squealed cutely with the sudden movement.

“Matvey, you is too serious!” Canada furrowed his eyebrows but noticed the lock on his shoulders as Russia pressed his fingers into them softly.

“Oui, I have never…ah seen your room,” Canada mumbled honestly. Gazing around with wide eyes. His purple gaze was being watched by more deep amethyst orbs, the wallpaper decorated with symmetrical black and white columns, the white wooden desk was littered playfully with glass figures all intricately hand painted with bold inks, the windows were all covered with shutters and the only light was from the bright LED in the ceiling. The feel was all professional and Canada just noticed that Russia had stopped staring at him and opened a cupboard at his desk.

Russia snapped up grinning with an ecstatic expression of mischievousness. His eyes gleamed knowingly, only adding to Canada’s curiosity. Pulling out a bouquet of sunflowers, growing warmer than the sun’s rays, tied together in an indigo ribbon. The shock left Canada’s mouth hanging and with no reaction Russia started to worry.

“Matvey not like?” Russia flicked his eyes between the flowers and Canada as if trying to work something out. His eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration as if to wonder where his plan had gone wrong.

“Non. Je ne sais pas quoi dire! I love it Russia.”(I don’t know what to say!) Canada breathed out gratefully. Pronouncing each syllable to show his gratitude and loss of breath.

“Da, that is khorosho (good) or Matvey would not have liked it if Mat’ Rossiya (Mother Russia) were to choose between Matvey and the Sunflowers!” Canada brushed off the threat like lint on clothing and carefully took the flowers from Russia with wonderment, it seemed to Russia the gift had shocked Canada so much he did not know how to comprehend the gift.

“Da, Matvey will use the ribbon to tie his hair…?” Russia trailed off with his words at the end, unsure of how to phrase his request, without it coming out as threatening. Canada rubbed the ribbon between his fingers and revelled at his velvety softness.

“Oui, I will,” Canada spoke as if he was passing a law, with complete commitment. The way Russia’s lips twitched upwards made Canada feel proud. The gap between Russia’s real smile and his fake murderous smile was slowly but surely narrowing. Canada couldn’t help but compare their relationship to a caterpillar. With every right word, gesture and expression the caterpillar was being fed leaves. Soon it would reach a point where the caterpillar would become a chrysalis and that was when the hardships began, it would feel like everything was in shambles and there was nothing left to salvage. But if Russia and Canada were very trusting of each word, gesture and expression they had shared in the past a small butterfly would emerge from the chrysalis. And it would have the most exotic peacock blue wings glistening proudly in the sun, dancing majestically around anything which could come in its way.

But time was key, and Canada knew this. But he just dreaded the moment their caterpillar would disappear into a crippled and murky brown chrysalis.

"Khorosho, because Mat’ Rossiya was planning to visit Canada in his home." Canada snapped his head up.

"Huh?" Canada questioned still not understanding what Russia meant even if it was clear as daylight.

"Mat' Rossiya is going to visit Matvey in his home." The Russian pressed eagerly awaiting Canada's opinion, even it looked like Russia would visit even if Canada rebutted.

"Oui, that would be wonderful." Canada leapt out of the chair while his brain came up with a to-do list of what preparations needed to be made before the Russian decided to make his stay. "But come at nine or else I won't be ready!" Canada quickly jumped up in excitement and carefully carried the gorgeous flowers in another delicate hand. Animatedly explaining how happy he was that Russia was visiting and ran out the room like a whirlwind. But Canada had forgotten- Russia did not have his address.

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Canada’s wavy hair was a warm rich blonde, much like the sunrise at Vermillion Lake, with a mixture of dark whisky waves, sweet honey locks and borderline auburn strands tied loosely in a high ponytail allowing some tighter ringlets to frame his face unevenly on both sides. The indigo ribbon was knotted into a simple large bow on his head holding his silken hair up without a problem.

The country had reasonably broad shoulders, carrying the weight of his country, with a gentle taper at his hips and below. Wearing mid washed skinny jeans with a small brown leather belt, a freshly pressed linen white shirt tucked in neatly and a pair of black and white converse, something America had gifted him when he saw them become a trend.

A playful knock on the door to a mysterious tune pulls Canada out of his stupor. Scrambling to answer the door Canada tripped over his antique victorian carpet. With a loud thud, the person on the other side of door knocked louder without the unusual tune.

Canada pulled himself up and brushed himself off while lunging towards the door, throwing the poor piece of wood open to reveal a concerned yet angry Russian.

Russia appeared different, compared to usual guise he seemed to have put an effort into his clothing choice. His prominent broad shoulders were dressed in an earthy brown military shirt and a contrasting ashen grey blazer, straight boot-cut dark blue jeans slightly scruffy at the end where some strings were coming loose, but his feet covered in his trademark chunky black leather boots laced together from some unknown era. The signature rose pink scarf was bound around his neck hanging loosely behind him to create a long tail.

"Salut Russia." Canada squeaked out and lost himself in Russia's jewelled orbs.

"Preevyet Canada, I hope you are not hiding anything?" The Russian's deep voice denoted whimsical mistrust.

"Non, Russia I fell..." Canada mumbled to the end as his cheeks heated up like an oven with embarrassment. The Russian grinned broadly and let out a deep chuckle, though not mocking, Canada felt feverish after being under the Russian's microscope.

"Da I like Matvey's home. It is, what you say, 'cosy', da?" Canada having reached his limit turned away to stop staring at Russia's more delighted eyes.

"Oui, I'm happy you find it nice. Come in." Canada stood to the side to let the bigger man into his home. Feeling his eyes dart around to where Russia was looking to make sure everything was in order.

"You are wearing the ribbon Drakonchik..." Canada smiled without a single thought to spin merrily in front of his friend to give him a good sight. Canada watched as the Russian reached out to brush a free strand from his face to place it thoughtfully behind his ear. Canada noticed how the Russian smelt of freshly cut grass, somehow, and saw Russia's choppy ashen grey hair styled to spike at odd angles like a lion's mane.

"Oui, I thought it would help when keeping my hair out my face." The Russian grinned crazily and stroked Canada head endearingly, not to ruin Canada's hard work, to feel the smooth hair glide along his fingertips with ease.

"Why keep it long, Matvey?" Russia asked out of the blue, Canada liked that about him. Russia did only enquire about Canada because he was solely interested in him. He was not trying to get close to America, through Canada, and he was definitely not trying to make Mother Russia an empire.

"Well, I was actually raised by France for a while but was handed over to Britain for the rest of my childhood and that is where I met America." Canada led the man into his living room gesturing to the four-seater oaken dining table. The Russian took a calculative seat facing the kitchen entrance in which Canada was brewing some green tea.

"I grew it in memory of my papa, France, and Britian tried to make me cut it but I refused many times other than to get a monthly trim." Canada turned from his work to Russia to find the older man was playing with a table knife. Spinning it between his thumb and index finger; while his eyes stared fixated on Canada. Russia had removed his blazer to show off his brown military shirt which was folded up to his elbows to exhibit his tight bundle of muscles rippling under his clenching and unclenching of the knife.

"Wha-at are t-the pla-ans for to-oday?" Canada stumbled through the forest of words to see an amused smile ripen on Russia's lips. The man leant back in the chair, preferring to childishly swing on the chairs unfortunate stands.

"I was planning to explore Canada's house then make you dinner." Warmth filtered into Canada's system as he could already feel his taste buds salivate in the distant memory of having the Russian cook for him again. Something Canada had learn was that the Russian loved to be the ringleader of every variable of his life. Once he had decided to surprise the Russian with a gift, after coxing the man to tell Canada his birthday to no avail, he accepted the gift but the Russian had then disappeared from Canada’s sights, somehow.

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For two days Canada heard nothing from the Russian, feeling hopeless for the millionth time, the Canadian received a mysterious call on his house phone and the caller left a voicemail explaining for Canada to meet him in a local park. Disturbed beyond repair the Canadian armed himself with a Kumajiro (Kamajino at that moment) and a well-hidden hockey stick, signed personally by the ‘Trail Smoke Eaters’ in 1939 after they won Canada his first World Champion Cup. Unreplaceable time’s aside, Canada stood in the middle of the park with Kumajiro (Kumakon at that moment) facing the other way covering all park entrances.

“Medvezhonok.”(Teddy Bear) Canada twisted his head harshly to see Russia walking over casually with his hand in his pockets and the usual scarf fluttering nervously in the wind.

“Belyy Medved’ (Polar Bear), you are well?” The Russian reached out to Kumajiro (Komaton at the moment, how long does this go on for?) ruffling the bears head affectionately.

“Ivan?” Russia’s human name slipped out of Canada’s mouth without his permission. The Russian looked up with lighten up eyes, as if seeing receiving his Christmas present for the first time, and he left Kumajiro (Kamoreto at the moment) leaving the bear to shuffle off after taking a final sniff of the Russian and nuzzling Canada’s irresponsive hand. Canada watched Russia without a flicker of emotion, hoarsely shouting out in discomfort when the Russian scooped the smaller frame into a large heartfelt hug.

“Da, Drakonchik?” (Dragon) Canada felt his eyes water. The tears dripping down in silent remorse for betraying Canada’s frozen features. The Russian burrowed into Canada’s soft neck only to snap up in surprise as a wet liquid touched his face. Normally radiant entertained pools of amethyst darkened dangerously.

“Matvey, not happy to see me?” The larger man tucked his head forward leaving his hair to hang in front of his face like a willow tree’s branches, skilfully concealing the crazed contortion of Russia’s lip and dull wine red being injected into his lilac eyes, making them a sinful burgundy, glowing murderously with mistrust.

“Oui.” Canada answered, Russia’s grip intensified but Canada did not pay attention and watched Russia evolve into something he only had nightmares of.

“Ivan you hurt me.” Canada stated with a bite of his lip. The Russian narrowed his eyes grimly while loosening his hold but still kept it firm enough to restrain a future escapee from his clutch.

“Nyet I did not.” The Russian breathed down dangerously. Canada did not heed to the warning blaring in his head shrieking for him to perform a fatal blow and escape to his family.

“Non. You hurt me.” Russia growled identical to that of an untameable beast milliseconds from ripping anyone to shreds.

“You left me. I was scared you didn’t like me anymore.” Canada looked at Russia with now fully watery eyes, waterfall of tears pouring down his face, Russia felt his breath hitched as he quickly fumbling with his hands. Opalescent metallic crimson rubies diluted into Russia’s more friendly concerned amethyst spheres.

“Nyet, Drakonchik I would never leave you. I will hunt you down if you leave me but Mat’ Rossiya will never leave his comrade behind. Not even the world united, against me, could stop me from seeing you.” Canada coughed out in relief and sobbed uncontrollably. Hiccups turned into hushed whimpers as the Russian once again encased the Canadian into his larger frame and rubbed his back considerately.

“Where did you go Ivan? I thought you were gone forever!” Canada snuffled into the Russia’s tan coat not even caring about how weak he seemed to look in front of the man he has been trying to impress for months.

“Da, Mat’ Rossiya is sorry. I had some problems with my younger sestra, you know her right Drakonchik, and she seems to want to stake a claim to my heart. But it is all okay now Matvey I tried to be fast as I can and you see Mat’ Rossiya is back with his Matvey.” Russia cooed gently into his ears, his voice taking on an entrancing smoky quality. Canada could only nod in response.

“Come, Matvey, Mat’ Rossiya needs to help you feel better.” Canada was swiftly lifted up and carried with ease towards a blank picnic spot. Russia reached out to the back tail of his scarf and wrapped it securely around the Canadian’s neck. Kumajiro had sneakily placed himself behind the duo allow the two to lay down and rest their heads on his furry back. The scarf smelt eerily of freshly baked bread and calming enticing honey.

“Matvey did not eat breakfast and lunch did he?” Canada stared bewildered at the older man but nodded obediently without a word. It was one of those moments where Russia once again knew about Canada’s personal life. It had scared Canada at first and he tried to covertly look for the bugs, under the pretence of cleaning the house, but found none. So he gave up and got used to it seeing as Russia was not actually taking advantage of anything. But he just hoped his bathroom was clean.

“Non,” Canada was passed a warm loaf with an intensive smile. Seeing Canada’s questioning gaze at his loaf the Russian explained.

“It is Borodinsky, da, it was popular during the Soviet Union for its sweetness and strong aroma.” Wedges between the two bread slices was a creamy filling with chopped vegetables and satisfying pineapple pieces. Canada took a timid bite out of the sandwich, feeling the Russian’s eyes on Canada like a devils hound eagerly awaiting praise for a good catch. Canada hummed appreciatively at the dish before nudging it towards the Russian.

“Nyet, Canada it is for you.” Canada mumbled a token of gratitude before retreating to finish his meal. Cheeks thoroughly lit up with an uncontrollable fire he dug into Russia’s scarf for comfort and something to hide behind. Seeing the cloth connect both his and Russia’s neck Canada could not help but move closer to the Russian for more reassurance of his presence. As if reading his mind the Russian smiled blissfully before leaning into to rub his more prominent nose with Canada’s button like nose. Canada felt his breath quicken as the Russian moved to reveal Canada’s hockey stick.

“Khorosho, Matvey is very careful with his surroundings. What is this?” Canada pulled out from under the scarf and saw a Russia point at the signatures scribbled over Canada’s hockey stick. Canada beamed and opened his mouth to explain his happy experience with the more glee filled Russian. Russia watched the animated Canadian drive his heart into oblivion. Canada was going to be Russia’s death and sole joy.

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“Da Canada will give me tea?” The Canadian snapped out his musing and placed the tea set onto the table and placed a delicate cup and saucer in front of Russia. A loud urgent knock on the main door had Canada looking at the exit in wonder.

“Matvey is expecting others?” Russia stared at Canada in annoyance.

“Non, Ivan Kumajumko (Canada when will you ever get it right!) is not here. And no one knows my address except you,” before Canada could explain further to the super nation a fatigued gritty voice grumbled on the other side.

“Matthew, son, I need to talk to you now!” Russia raised an eyebrow comically before lifting his tea and leaving the room with a smirk adorning his features.

“Da, I’m sure Drakonchik will be able to take care of this?” Gulping down the blistering hot tea with a straight face the Russian retreated down one of the corridors.

“Fukeneh.” Canada sweared with a sigh of impending doom. If Russia came halfway into his meeting with England, which was not scheduled, there would be unneeded drama in his life. Russia had explained to Canada that he wanted to keep his relationship a secret as people would come after Canada seeing as Russia was more lenient with him. But if Russia wanted to reveal it this way then all hell would break lose. England would look at him with alarm, America would try to prove that Russia was a ‘Commie bastard in every way’ and France would…would actually Canada did not know. France was unpredictable like that even if he tries to flirt with anything moving and remotely appealing.

“Canada, I don’t want to play the waiting game with you, you’re not America are you?” Canada skittered towards the door and flung it open only for the British man to stare bewildered at the younger male.

“Canada. You seem… words fail me.” England stared at his well-groomed son in front of him only to stop dead in his tracks. England now frozen in time left Canada swearing.

“Fukeneh, Mr. Britain come in, it is cold.” Canada groaned at his ruined day.

“Kolkolkolkol…” A chill ran up Canada’s spine as he felt the hands of time turn to indicate his calamitous fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and give kudos as I feel encouraged to write more if I get a response but please do comment even if it is a small comment and tell me what you like or dislike. I want to hear my readers views as I write to help me improve.


	3. Found out and let off

Britain slumped into a the leather sofa, sinking into the furniture wishing it could swallow him whole and take him away, but Canada was glancing at him in distress.

“Apologies Canada, I came at such a short notice without calling first. But I couldn’t wait, it’s important I want to talk, immediately.” Canada gazed with worry and shifted his eyes towards the corridor Russia disappeared into.  _Merde, if Russia hears this then England will kill me…_  Canada opened his mouth to protest.

“Is it really important?” England furrowed his bushy dense eyebrows in pain induced confusion. England leaned forward and turned his head, seeing as Canada’s eyes seemed to constantly stray from England to behind him. England smiled fondly at two ceramic floral decorated tea cups and saucers but froze at the casually slung blazer hanging on one of the chairs. According to Canada’s style of dressing he won’t even wear a blazer unless begged to do so. But here he was all dressed up in his most sophisticated clothes minus his usual hoodie engraved with the Canadian flag. Obviously Canada was trying very hard to impress someone.

“Who is the guest of honour?” England enquired unexpectedly. England watched in fascination as his son’s cheeks blossomed with an unrivalled blush. England raised an eyebrow and snorted with gentle humour.

“Let’s keep everything behind closed doors shall we?” Canada squealed out in humiliation, he waved his hands in a hasty fashion to punctuation his words.

“Non, Mr. Britian I’m not involved in that kind of stuff.” Canada stammered rapidly but clamped his mouth shut upon seeing England’s understanding gaze.

“It’s not America then seeing he would only wear anything with stripes and stars at the drop of a hat. France wears anything that comes into fashion even if it’s drag. It not I as you can see. Whose tree are you barking up, son?” Canada paused in puzzle and spluttered out, voice not as calm and collected as he is known for. It takes some a while to understand Britain and his weird way of speaking but in secret people respected him seeing as it made him sound more civilized.

“I’m not seeing anyone shady, but why are you here Mr Britain?” England huffed and muttered in annoyance about ‘being uptight’ and looked around and shrugged.

“I want to talk to you alone so unfortunately that person has to go Matthew. Now.” England enforced his word with a frigid stare that Canada could only shiver under. Canada was now sweating bullets. Who was worse to face? A potentially psychotic obsessive friend or his strict no-nonsense father who has something crucially important to share, which could possibly be the end of the world seeing as how he was not joking with Canada like unusual. Oh, the joys of being Canada, the quiet and most polite country to ever exist.

“I can’t,” Canada mumbled shifting his gaze around nervously.

“I know you put this get up for someone special but I need you, Canada. I can’t trust Francis or Alfred on this, you know this is serious if I don’t want to involve them. So whoever it’s, get rid of them.” Canada sucked in a deep breath and stared in pure shock at the amount of desperation England was portraying made Canada wonder how this secret topic could affect a previous Empire could so much.

“Da, but Matvey will not do that.” Russia emphasised with a pointed stare, frosty amethyst orbs watched England’s face drain of all colour, not that any colour was left to be drained before due to his sick state. England leaped into the air gobsmacked, eyes open like shutters, he had somehow found his voice, trembling under the revelation of Russia being in Canada’s house so casually. Russia had somehow appeared directly behind England and Canada without a sound.

“Russia! Bloody hell Russia of all people. Matthew you’ve gone loony, barmy, absolutely bonkers.” England turned in hideous rage at Canada, nose flaring, eyes blazing with mistrust and cheeks hot with untamed anger. Canada shook his head in fear, he thought if he was ever found out he would not be afraid but Canada was rooted to the spot seeing England’s intense reaction.

“Non, Mr. Britain, Russia is not that bad he is really nice and h-” Canada tried to explain how Russia was not bad in anyway as America and others always make him seem to be. But England could only laugh hysterically clutching his stomach while his rough bristly voice echo in the room and grate harshly against everyone’s ears.

“Son, no need to cover up for someone like him. Do you know how cruel he is without knowing, ask anyone he has come across in war. Even Germany is bloody wary of him, and you know shit hits the fan when Germany if flipping worried about something. What are you thinking? Only America would think of doing something like this, if the git could get over his fear of communism. But you Canada are meant to be the mature one, the one with the brain.” England was getting closer and closer, leaning into Canada’s face, not noticing tears of betrayal pour down his cheeks. Staining his face and clothing Russia watched in unadulterated fascination of how England was showing such an extreme reaction to his own presence. But all interest turned into scorn when Canada had reached his limit. Salty tears journeyed down Canada’s soft cheeks causing Russia’s heart to constrict with displeasure.

“That is enough England.” Russia sliced through the one-sided conversation easily with a piercing stringent stare putting England on the spot to notice Canada sniffling to himself. Canada had turned his head mid-way through the rant to try and conserve some of his dignity lost in front of his only friend. Russia brush passed the blonde to the devastated teen.

“Matvey?” Russia whispered in a soft feathery voice. The taller man leaned onto one knee to seem shorter than the teen and look past the curtain of sunset coloured hair. England could only watch with mixed emotions as Canada lifted his head with quivering eyes trying to scout something in Russia’s features.

“Does Matvey want me to go?” Canada widened his eyes in at the surprising questions but did not hesitate to divulge the England and Russia how strongly he was against Russia leaving his side.

“Non, Ivan, non you will not leave again. Not after what happened last time. Non.” The Canadian muttered like a mantra lunging his hand out to grip the Russian’s shirt in a vice grip. England’s heart nearly stopped when Canada spoke Russia’s human name with such audacity which made him shiver in fear. It was an unspoken rule between countries they could only use human names with each other if they felt very strongly about each other. When Russia spoke of Canada’s name England wanted to murder the scoundrel but to hear Canada mutually accept this relationship by using Russia’s human name made England sick with mixed emotions coursing through his veins. Russia constantly reached forward to swipe away any tears Canada was making, smiling all the while comfortingly rubbing the nap of Canada’s neck with his other hand to hold the teen in place.

“Da,” Russia spoke resolutely and turned firmly to England, who was still frozen in shock at how well Russia had handled the situation, “I will stay as Matvey wishes.”

“If England wants to say something he will watch his tongue or it won’t survive today.” The Russian advised in a threatening tone no longer upholding his innocent façade in favour of glaring ominously at England almost daring him to go against him. England fell behind, his knees shivering in horror, leaning into his palms England rubbed his face in fatigue feeling his head cool from the shot of emotions.

“How long?” Canada glanced up from behind the Russian before turning to Russia with an enquiring gaze, Russia led the Canadian to sit comfortably on the sofa. Tugging Canada’s head into his steady shoulders and tucked in legs to lean against Russia’s muscular ones.

“Two years…Comrade Matvey and Mat’ Rossiya have been together.” Russia answered honestly, his voice distant with a tinge of gratification painting his voice, hearing the meaningful tone Canada buried his face into Russia’s scarf to hide his heated cheeks and the wide smirk adorning his lips. England stared in disbelief,  _How could I not have noticed unless…._ England thought back to a particular moment which would now make more sense.

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France had secretly decided to have break into Canada’s actual house in Vancouver to decorate the place for Canada’s birthday. His baronial house was half-timbered, the dark maple wooden planks were an unrivalled attribute which everyone admired, and split level giving the house a fun outlook. When France pushed open the door, armed with old-fashioned and partly rusted pick-locks, he was surprised to find it already unlocked. America glanced at France and England with a cheesy grin, not noticing the concern blooming on France’s features.

“You tosser, are you trying to take the piss!” England hissed with irritation but was ignored as America opted to gap and gasp loudly at the interior of the house.

“Artie you seeing this?” America looked around in awe, England who had yet to enter continued hissing.

“No, you idiot wha-” England could not hold in his shock either and gasped alongside France.

Paper cuttings of sunflowers were hung in layers on the banister of the stairs and on the walls, pinwheels of tissue paper hung on the wall like art in reds and whites like the Canadian flag with intricate maple leafs falling like autumn on the dark wooden walls, dimly lit by red and white paper lanterns hung low from the ceiling. A banner hung above the entry way in Russian then English reading : ‘С Днем Рождения Канада (S Dnem Rozhdeniya Kanada) Happy Birthday Canada’. A sweet harmony of voices merged together to sing in union in Russian. Two female and the other two male.

“Master vdrug poyavitsya  
V golubom vertolete,  
I pokazhet mne besplatnyye fil'my.  
On skazhet, chto s dnem rozhdeniya  
I kak raz, prezhde chem on uletayet  
On budet, veroyatno, ostavit 500 konusy morozhenogo dlya menya.”

The three intruders walked slowly to the main room to see a banquet being hosted. Canada himself was in tears while three nations and a half stood in front of him were singing tunefully with each other. Three of the four figures were easy to recognise quickly as Russia, Ukraine and Belarus. All dressed in not their usual uniform but quite laid back attire but all proportions were blown out the water. Ukraine and Belarus opted for a sarafan, though Belarus’ had more flare at the waist, patterned with extravagant stripes of flowers and checks. Ukraine choose blue and white as her colour scheme and held her short hair back with a blue ribbon tied as a headband. Belarus went a step further and had a knee high lilac and pastel pink patterned sarafan while her hair was braided like a crown on her head along with a actual crown of fresh pale rosy dahlias decorated with pearls. Russia on the other hand chose a traditional cotton white kosovorotka (skewed collar shirt) with purple embroidered trim and a pair of silken lavender pants folded up slightly at his bare feet. A deep lilac velvet sash tied at his hip in a large bow overlapping the long shirt. Similarly dresses was a young boy, only he wore red and white, swinging his feet having been placed like a king on Ivan’s shoulder. He had soft dishevelled brunette hair tied in twin tails on either side of his head. His small hands clashing together in a furry of clapping as he giggled at the end of the song making Russia chuckle airily with him.

“Bratishka do the flying thing again!” (Older Brother)The child exclaimed, Russia simply had not choice to comply as he took the child by the hips and held him above his head. The child stretched his hands out like he was flying and Russia thudded gaily around the spacious room. A flurry of childish giggles and ‘more!’ were jumbled to compose a welcoming atmosphere. America turned to England as if not knowing how to react and watching for some type of guidance.

“Father, papa, Al!” Canada was the first to spot them and point them out. Russia immediately dropped the child, carefully onto his feet on the floor.

“Vlad go to Dimitri, he has some Alenka(1) for you.” The child stared in fear at the newcomers and flicked his eyes warily between America and Russia. The child tensed onto his tippy toes and placed a light kiss on Russia’s cheek, only being able to reach high enough when the kneeling nation ducked down further to help. Merrily the boy scampered to the kitchen door with a smile fit for a tsar.

“Dmitr!” The child yelled. Russia turned, seeming annoyed.

“Vlad, good children don’t shout!” A quiet distant ‘prosti’ (Sorry) could be heard childishly whining.

“Woah, can one of you enlighten me on what the heck is goin’ on here!” America hollered angrily at all the occupants. Belarus stepped forward armed with a table knife, making it gleam a multitude number of times more threatening than it’s thought to be, glowering at the haughtily American.

“You will be careful kapitalisticheskiy shlyukha.” (Capitalist whore) The insult may not have been recognizable but it was enough to make America explode with fury.

“Yeah and what are you gonna do Commie bitch?” Russia scanned between them, aggravation building up in him like snow found in his home. Before anyone else could intervene Canada stood up proudly between them.

“Alfred, stop. Belarus there was no need to throw insults.” Canada’s usually timid voice sliced like a sweltering knife through the mounting tension. America glared between Russia and Belarus, who was glancing at Russia for any indication of how to proceed.

“Al back off. Now.” America stepped back, uncertain of the sudden change in Canada but let France and England take over with the talking.

“Hey papa, father what do you think?” Canada gestured expansively with his hand to the extravagant decoration brightening up his home, not leaving any dark corner to stay bare.

“Eet eez féntastic mon son. Who eez responsibuhl?” France spoke in his posh accent while dancing around the Canadian not being about to hold his excitement.

“Erm, it was Ukraine’s idea,” hearing her name Ukraine peered up from her plate of pastila and honey bread only to furrow her eyebrows in confusion. “And Russia handled all the expenses.” Ukraine strode over with a cordial smile beautifying her visage.

“Nice to see you all.” Ukraine addressed with maternal kindness. England stepped forward and introduced everyone.

“Funny thing is that we had thought of surprising Matthew first, seems like you have had us thoroughly beat.” England engaged politely.

“Da, Canada has been very kind to me by helping me to fit in well since the Soviet’s collapse.” Ukraine winced an imaginary eye, hearing how carefree she sounded about such a delicate subject with not much of a tender touch.

“Very well to understand, but I must say this is a bit overboard.” America snorted behind to duo but no one paid any special attention, after all it was America’s usual antics. But nobody could deny at how overdone the whole event was.

“Nyet, Comrade.” Russia seemed to have decided to enter the conversation with Vlad tucked safely within his arms gnawing his canines at a bar of chocolate. “Canada has done me a favour by welcoming Katya and Natalya. Their safety is my priority.” America growled annoyed at the taller nation.

“We can spoil Mattie as much as we want, you don’t need to spend any of you commie money!” Russia dismissed America without a second thought to attend to Vlad who was clawing at his shirt.

“Bratishka I want to go to sleep.” Russia giggled with exhilaration.

“Da then we better say ‘Spasibo’ to Canada for having us.” Vlad peered around with half lidded eyes.

“Spasibo Boyfriend-in-law!” His voice soft as he was fighting to keep awake. Everyone raised a wary eyebrow at how the youngster had addressed Canada. Russia chuckled unevenly.

“Da, Vasilica (Romania) will need a correction. Vlad is knowing too much.” Russia walked off lost in his own innocent wonderland.

“Romania is trying to get onto Russia’s nerves by using Vladimir to call any random nation his ‘Boyfriend-in-law’ so people get scared of Russia and think he is actually expanding.” Canada filled in hastily. Everyone else nodded indecisively but let the topic drop.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“How? Son, I apologise for my behaviour but you know how much worse Alfred will be right?” Russia nodded in acceptance of England’s apology but narrowed his eyes after hearing America’s human name. “He believes you need to be protected from Russia.” Russia tensed his muscles but opted to hear Canada’s response.

“Non, he can’t decide what I do,” Canada left his warm paradise with Russia and turned to England to explode in fury, “I fought in so many wars, with my people be it at my right or left, he can’t stop me from my own right to do whatever the fuck I want. I protected strangers part of allied divisions in the First and Second World War but no one saw me then, no one gave a flying fuck in my direction and never mind the fact Canada is too shy  doesn’t want war even if he has an army he can’t protect himself.” Canada leaped from the sofa waving his arms in feverish rage. He paced the length of the coffee table between the two sofas.

“The last time I had to fight was 1812 when America decided to attack your troops that were situated in my country. He declared fucking war against you, which is when I had enough, you know I make up 20 percent of his export buyers’ market right, not only that I make up more than a quarter of his oil imports and ninety percent of his gas imports right. Now let’s see how he likes it when I cut all that. Don’t get me started on Aerospace! Fukeneh and he wants to control what I do, ha!” England could only stare in astonishment as his most trusted mature son just roar out his feelings to lay bare at England’s feet. Turning to see Russia’s reaction he nearly dropped his jaw when the Russian put his hands forward to clap in childish awe seeing the older man’s eyes glitter in admiration and esteem.

“Da that is good, right England.” The island nation could only look dumbfounded that the other man’s reaction but nearly fainted to see his son turned with a beet red face and twiddling with his fingers while basking his Russia’s praise.

“Vous remercier Ivan, Cuba had to learn the hard way thanks to you.”(Thank you) The larger nation laughed with glee and chanted ‘kolkolkol’ while bringing out his faucet pipe. Shadowy indigo waves of despair assaulted the air as Russia played with his faucet pipe, England stood to dive behind the unaffected Canadian.

“Da, if I see svoloch’ (scum) like him attack my comrade again, I will raspadat’sya (disintegrate) him and it will look so pretty. Svoloch’ will not touch my Matvey because Matvey is mine comrade, da?” Canada nodded in affirmation only to calm Russia down who hid his pipe away and England peeped up from behind Canada with a new found respect for the Canadian.

“If only you would say that to the gits face, not mine, but seeing as I won’t be able to get rid of you let’s get to the point.” Canada took his loyal seat beside Russia and watched England’s feature wrinkle with exhaustion while his forest green eyes which always twinkled with wisdom were dulled from their vivid form to show loss of understanding and helplessness.

“Canada I need help.” Canada watched with fear, his previous role model was breaking down in front of him.

“My wizarding community is at war with some bloke called Voldemort who wants to attain immortality. Seeing as he will do anything to acquire this ability my only hope is a boy called Harry Potter.” Canada glanced at Russia in the corner of his eyes to see the larger man was actually being serious.

“I want you to attend Hogwarts, which is a school in Scotland for children with the ability to perform magic, I will pose as a teacher there but I want you to be a student so you can keep an even closer eye on Potter. I’ll be able to get more intimate information from Dumbledore and you can follow Potter around and make sure he doesn’t die.” Canada piqued an eyebrow.

“Why don’t you just kill that hoser Mr Britain?” England huffed out a humourless laugh.

“I would have showed him hell but I’m weak and something is stopping me from facing that tosser. You would bloody think if I had an empire I could dispose of one bloody man but no there is a prophecy that stops me. I mean who comes up with this bullcrap?” It was quite a scene to watch, Russia had to admit, for a tight-lipped gentleman like England to spew profanity like it was a Christmas gift to the children of the world.

England faced the duo with a look of all seriousness this situation deserved.

“Canada I know you went against Alfred for me in the…” England stared in distress, “Revolution, but will you do it again for me one last time.” Canada shook his head and smiled kindly.

“Non, Father you don’t need to say that every time you need help just came to me and I’ll do what I can. There is no last time.” Canada shuffled of the sofa and hugged the limp nation.

“Shit now you’re going to make me cry with your emotional crap. Thanks.” England could only rest his head on Canada’s chest seeing as the other nation was standing.

“Da, that is good.” Russia finally broke the minute of silence and smiled eerily. “England is Matvey’s family so Russia is going to help.” England snapped back to reality and shook his head in bold refusal.

“No! Absolutely not, I can’t involve too many people. If Canada is gone, sorry to say son, but not many people will notice. If you disappear then America will surely notice first and start a worldwide Communist hunt to locate you.” England calculated logically. He head now clearer having shared his problem that some of the pressure straining his muscles dissolved into nothing.

“Da, but” Russia grinned as if nothing could prevent his resolution, “if England disappears then France and America will turn the world inside out to find you. Whatever happens, happens, da, England?” England sighed at his defeat but laid down a condition.

“But if you decide to join I call the shots, no killing, no hurting anyone, no laughing, no scaring, no threatening, no using country names, no kolkolkoling, n-” Canada giggled at the crestfallen look Russia adopted and nudged at England with his elbow.

“Non, Mr. Britain we could play this to our advantage. If we make Russia seem very powerful then we can move Voldemort’s attention to Ivan and this Harry Potter can have some more time to get stronger to face that hoser.” England saw no fault in Canada’s words but still felt inclined to rebuttal anything to do with Russia.

“Russia do you know any magic?” England refused to back down from Russia’s strong gaze, however the older man simply laughed in his strange manner and nodded with great enthusiasm.

“Da, Mat’ Rossiya was summoned by England once was he not?” England whimpered in the recollection of the destruction of Busby’s chair, his final and highly esteemed weapon.

“I don’t know how you did it but don’t you ever touch my chair!” England erupted but Canada stood in between the two and nervously asked what was going on.

“This wanker sat on Busby’s chair in one of our Allied Summits when it was meant from America and broke my one and only trusted weapon like it was nothing. But he didn’t do it once, no, the wanker decided he will do it more and broke it a further two times.” Russia giggled childishly before answering like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“In Mat’ Rossiya chairs don’t kill you, you kill chairs!” (A/N see what I did there *wink wink* drop me a comment if you get it) Canada snickers but grabbed onto England before he pounced onto the super nation and did anything he would regret later on.

“Okay, Mr Britain with all this sorted Ivan what magical abilities do you actually have?” Russia smiled creepily as if to recalling the effects of his magic.

“Curses. Mat’ Rossiya specialises in curses.” Russia spoke slowly to emphasise his point. Smiling creepily as he explained vaguely.

“There you go. Mr. Britain is that good enough?” Canada reasoned with the fuming nation. “Now that is over and done with how are we going to get accepted into Hogwarts?” England stopped flailing and smirked arrogantly.

“My Head of Magical Department, from Parliament, is already constructing fake paper with your identities and backgrounds under the name of an exchange programme. Canada you are from the IIvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but seeing Russia already part of our plan we are going to have to screw around with the background information.” England glowered in Russia’s direct and was met with a spooky smile.

“Well, let’s do this. Ivan can be my pen pal from Russia or somewhere near there which will explain his accent, if there is wizard school in Russia. And we can both be exchange students except you Mr. Britain are our caretaker and is offering to teach a curriculum from aboard while looking after us. How does that sound?” Canada concluded with a modest smile.

“Yes that sounds reasonable. Seeing as they recently had the Tri-wizard Competition we could put this under building further relationships between schools.” England stole a glance at Russia to find the man was staring fixatedly at Canada with unidentifiable adoration reflected in his eyes. England gazed at Canada to find he was shyly looking between England and Russia.

“Good. Now that is over I will take my leave and with your consent, I’ll send over the documentations through mail.” England gathered his belongings and huffed in exhaustion.

“Canada check your email in a two or three days. How will you receive your email Russia?” England bristled uncomfortably before berating himself for this stupid behaviour.  _Russia is helping whether you like it or not. You have work to do and the more help you have the easier it will be there so stop being a pussy and go!_ England scolded himself more.

“Sent it to Matvey, Comrade, and he shall give it to me. Have a safe journey.” Russia politely ended with a, somehow, average smile, which did not squeeze out all the air from England’s lungs.

 _I need a drink, preferably Rum, maybe Annabelle is free after making those documents and we can have a pint together._  England stepped out the door and hailed a cab but was stopped by his name being stuttered out.

“Mr Britain!” England glimpsed at the drive to find him occupied by his sat nav. “Please don’t tell anyone about me and Ivan.” Canada spilt out with a shudder.

“People don’t get Russia and I thought it was a hoax at first too but being with him for two years and so many things have happened and…” Canada took a deep breath and calmed his unsettled nerves. “But he is really kind if you know him and he really means well if don’t be rude to him.” England raised his hairy eyebrows and smiled amused with the anxiety Canada was suffering.

“No, I was wrong. Son I’ve brought up seventy and more colonies up do you think I don’t know what intentions one has when they look at you. I have seen brawn and no brains. Sizzle and no steak. Sometimes butter doesn’t even melt in their mouth, that’s how mean spirited they are. But Russia I know, can come out to be quite shady but he actually is genuinely kind-hearted.” Canada bit his lip, stumped by England’s confession.

“Then why do you not approve of our relation?” Canada flushed at his words but gawked for a clarification. England once again laughed, but not at the question but at himself. Seeing how his vulgar reaction was unwarranted.

“I’m sorry once again son. The point I did not do so well to execute was that you just need to be careful. Russia has a very gory and psychologically traumatising history.” Canada opened his mouth to retaliate to defend his friend but England shushed him harshly.

“Listen fully before interrupting son, isn’t that what I taught you? Now I was going to say that it’s not his fault. Fate had been cruel to him. While some say he had a choice to be merciful and develop that way, I say screw them. Russia was simply unfortunate to witness many horrendous things in his young age. He had no choice but to be cruel to survive, it’s in his blood and he does not even notice his doings. That is what I fear. He will commit a horrendous act towards you and not notice his wrong doings. So be careful.”

“I see now, my son that this could actually work.” Canada shook his head in embarrassment.

“You can’t hide the way he looks at you. You are logical and Russia values you highly. If you explain right and wrong to him kindly then Russia might just learn a thing or two. Therefore I don’t see any reason for my voice to rise against both of you.” A loud honk sent the duo to glare murderously at the taxi driver, who understood his position and snapped away quickly.

“Now I better go and give the driver a piece of my mind. I’ll call you. And some advice, you might want to stop avoiding that git too much or he might get suspicious of your whereabouts. You know how he can be when he puts his mind to something, things take a turn for the worse. So meet him and indulge him with your anger.” England patted his son’s head awkwardly but smiled warmly none the less before leaving out of sight.

“Maple…” Canada mumbled before retreating back to his house. Russia was pouring himself another cup steaming tea he most likely reheated.

“Matvey you is fine?” Russia put the cup down and moved forward to engulf the smaller nation in a tender hug. Canada nodded in the hug, pulling the Russian closer with a satisfied smile.

“Oui, I am very happy you are here.” Russia grinned ear to ear,  _Drakonchik if only knew how much I want to join with you, Da I want to so bad, but Katya said no touching before kissing…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIRTHDAY SONG TRANLATION  
> Never mind that the clumsy pedestrians are jumping over rain puddles.  
> And that the water is streaming down the street.  
> And never mind that the passers-by can’t make sense of  
> Why is it that I’m so happy on such a rainy day.
> 
> Pust' begut neuklyuzhe  
> Peshekhody po luzham,  
> A voda – po asfal'tu rekoy.  
> I neyasno prokhozhim  
> V etot den' nepogozhiy,  
> Pochemu ya veselyy takoy.
> 
> Yet I’m playing my accordion  
> In front of everyone on the street.  
> It’s so sad that a birthday  
> Can only happen once a year.
> 
> YA igrayu na garmoshke  
> U prokhozhikh na vidu…  
> K sozhalen'yu, den' rozhden'ya  
> Tol'ko raz v godu.  
> Priletit vdrug volshebnik  
> V golubom vertolete  
> I besplatno pokazhet kino,  
> S dnem rozhden'ya pozdravit  
> I, naverno, ostavit  
> Mne v podarok pyat'sot eskimo.
> 
> A wizard will suddenly appear  
> In a blue helicopter,  
> And will show me free movies.  
> He’ll say Happy Birthday  
> And just before he flies away  
> He’ll probably leave 500 ice cream cones for me.
> 
> YA igrayu na garmoshke  
> U prokhozhikh na vidu…  
> K sozhalen'yu, den' rozhden'ya  
> Tol'ko raz v godu.
> 
> (1)Alenka may not be the tastiest chocolate in Russia, but is probably the most recognised brand in the Russian chocolate industry.  
> It has been in production since 1965 and is the result of a special socialist food program implemented to mass-produce affordable milk chocolate. To find the right packaging for the candy bar, the producers held a competition and advertised it in a Moscow newspaper. The winner was a photo of an 8-month girl, submitted by an artist who worked at the factory, although later rumours circulated that the cute little girl on the packet was actually Svetlana Allilueva – Stalin’s daughter.
> 
> Please comment and give kudos as I feel encouraged to write more if I get a response but please do comment even if it is a small comment and tell me what you like or dislike. I want to hear my readers views as I write to help me improve.


	4. Chapter 4

Canada stood, frozen still, his heart beating fast in his chest. Russia still had his arms wrapped around the smaller nation whispering endearments into his ear. Russia rubbed gently along Canada’s back and smiled when Canada tightened his grab on Russia, his arms barely making it around Russia’s muscular waist. The younger one had stopped sniffling moments ago and had opted to stay in the hug.

“Matvey is now fine?” Canada glanced up reluctantly, wanting to still bury himself deeper into Russia’s chest and feel the intoxicating heat radiating off him, but he nodded in affirmation.

“Oui, merci Ivan, for being there.” Russia grinned in glee. Picking up the shorter nation to make him taller than Russia by a head. The smile now melting off Russia’s face to be replaced with dejection.

“Da, Mat’ Rossiya is here for his comrade. But will Drakonchik still like Mat’ Rossiya here?” It had taken all of Russia’s willpower to ask Canada his thoughts. Normally Russia would have kept all his problems to himself, after a few bottles of Vodka he could fall asleep in peace, but his relationship with Canada was serious. Russia was not controlling Canada. Russia was not being violent with Canada. Russia was not the man everyone else described him to be. He was perfect.

And Canada could not afford to lose such a kind spirited man like Russia just because of his insecurities.

“Non, Ivan don’t say that. I will always want you here, by my side, and I want to be by your side forever. Two years of being with you have been the best moments of my life. I don’t want to lose you Russia.” A creeping chill settled in the room much to Canada's fear. Russia muttered words in Russian sounding eternally grateful, the language words were foreign to Canada’s ears but his heart clenched as Russia pulled the Canadian into a comforting hug. Russian words continued to be whispered into Canada’s sensitive ears, his heart fluttered in need and want, it was not enough to stop his tears from building up and falling off the edge of eyelids.

“Matvey is too nice to me.” Canada chuckled.

“Non, Ivan you’re the best thing that has happened to me.” Pulling away from the hug the light in the room suddenly seemed dimmer. Both of the men noticed how their breath mingled together as they were only centimetres apart. Canada did not know what was happening but he was sure that Russia was slowly becoming more than a friend to him. His breathe hitched as he felt his heart strings tug at the sight of those ever sparkling byzantine orbs. It was a colour unique to Russia, even Canada’s eyes did not glimmer with happiness when distort.

“Russia can I tell you something.” Russia let his lips curve upwards, he was enjoying the closeness too. Canada’s eyes were a soft midnight blue dusted carefully with flicks of amethyst. They were an abundant river of kindness and sincerity. Matthew was definitely one in a million. _His eyes were a work of art_ , was all Russia could think.

“Da moy Matvey can say anything.” Canada twitched his lips into a grateful smile.

“I’m America’s brother so Russia when I first met you I thought that you were scary, one wrong move and that was the end of Canada, the most unnoticeable country in the world. But it turns out you were better than my family. Mr. Britain will call every month to check up on me, which is when he remembers that is. France was always close to me, he understood me the most but at times he would get so wound up with Mr. Britain that I felt invisible. Lastly America. Alfred was my light before you came, when we were younger he would be everything to me. I didn’t have to fight for his attention or affection”, Russia tensed not knowing where this speech was going, “but then he got hooked on Mr. Britain too and the rest of the world. I was forgotten by the one man I cared about the most. I thought there would not be a day when I would be lonely as Alfred used to always say, ‘Mattie, bro, I’m your neighbour, brother and hero, I’ll never stop looking after you’. And you know what I believed him.”

“But I was wrong. I was lost in history. Not even the world remember me . And then suddenly you just came into my life, by literally sitting on me” Canada laughed joyfully, leaning his forehead in to touch it with Russia’s. Russia felt his heart quicken rapidly, the only time it sung so loudly was when he was on the field. Memories flashed in his head like searing spitfire, the wrenching of his gut before a battle, the thrumming beats of his heart as it sung while escaping death’s grasps, and the pride he felt when raising Mat’ Rossiya’s flag in all its glory to dictate the result of the hard fought battle. All of these emotions wrapped in one. Russia could not have survived it, had it not been for his unique gifts as a nation.

“I used to think this was a trap, to get me to join you and be one with Russia. That you just wanted Canada and Matthew Williams will always remain forgotten in time. And I can’t believe I’m saying this but if you asked me Ivan”, Russia felt his eyes glaze over, “I would say yes to being one with Russia. If it meant you would always be by my side.” Russia must have snapped because his larger, sturdier, form just collapsed. His knees slamming harshly into the laminated wooden flooring, the thud echoing through the house. The man had fallen so hard, literally on the floor and for Canada, he leaned his head against Canada’s more soft shoulders.

“Matvey…say it again.” A wet patch was forming on Canada’s shoulder, he could feel the water seep into his shirt, but Canada maintained his breathe and smile.

“I would say yes to being one with Russia.” Canada replied easily, his words flowed like smooth velvet of his tongue, as if it was always meant to be.

“Matvey…Matvey…” The Russian kept on repeating, his hands clawing at Canada’s shirt, trying to prove if he was not dreaming. That Canada would not just disappear. He had not drank enough vodka to drown a country. He wasn’t hallucinating his darkest desires.

Canada, being Canada, had just been hit by a truck. His words now fully registering in his head, after a heated blushed settled on his unblemished cheeks. Russia seemed to have composed himself, somewhat, his ashen hair dishevelled while his vibrant amethyst spheres pulsated with gratification. He had never been so thankful in his life.

Nervously Russia leaned in and then paused to see if Canada would complain then continues. If this was Canada then he would have waited centuries, but it was Matthew William’s who had turned adoration into passion and he was more than impatient. Without holding back Matthew jerked forward, boldly while his cheeks darkened in the heat of the moment, pressing his softer and sweetened maple syrup tinted lips into Ivan’s fuller and fierier vodka devoted lips. The taste was intoxicating. The more Canada responded the more he was captivated by what he was doing. It was a guilty pleasure and Canada was hooked like no other.

Ivan on the other hand was not fairing as well. His normally more logical and rational part of his mind which was wary of every scheme, every experiment, every investigation had not ever resulted in this outcome. It was idiosyncratic to the point that Ivan wanted to jump head into this unknown with Matthew.

This little timid boy, who did not have the voice to even be heard by people, had just lit Ivan’s world on fire with a single touch. Of course Ivan wanted to explore this sinfully electrifying realm, hand in hand with Matthew.

Pulling apart Matthew gasped for air, his heart still recovering from the exertion it suffered, a bashful smile adorned his features as Ivan beamed back.

“Ya ne mogu zhit' bez tebya, Matvey, moy Solnyshko. Ya lyublyu tebya vsey dushoy.” (I can’t live without you, Matvey, my sunshine. I love you with all my soul) Matthew sniffled, his head submerged in sheer joy that it had become too much.

“Oui Je t'aime Ivan.” (Yes, I love you Ivan) That one sentence, not even that just a small phrase, had never held so much weight in Matthew’s or Ivan’s life until they exchanged these words to each other.

The day which was meant to be spent naively was suddenly hazier in memory. Affection driven gestured filled the evening, lingering kisses, daring feathery touches and hunger gazes meant the duo had not wasted a moment to think about anything else irrelevant. The two years they had spent as friends had abruptly become foreign. They would never be the same again.

With a hockey game droning on in the background the two lounged tangled together closely on the velvety sofa. The sun had set outside moments ago and Ivan was getting the feeling he had to leave soon, if he did not want to miss lunch at the hotel. He tilted his head down, Matthew had made himself comfortable on his chest with his head tucked into Ivan’s neck.

“Matvey… Solnyshko? (Sunshine)” The stillness of Matthew’s body and the deep breathes he took made Ivan chuckle, warmly, this domestic situation was all too heart-warming for him. He had had vivid dreams of waking to someone beside him, clinging onto him like it was the end of the world tomorrow. And here he had gotten what he always desired, someone to hold him close to the point they believed Ivan was the only one who made them feel perfect.

Carefully, with unconditional love, Ivan wriggled out from underneath Canada, making sure to freeze when Canada muttered something or moved. After all he did not want to wake up his new found love. Having accomplished the task Ivan gazed tenderly at his lover, his violent orbs lightening up as they drank in Matthew’s splendour, delicate brandy strands were folded behind Matthew’s ears by Ivan’s feathery touches. With a regretful huff he grudgingly turned away to strapped on his leather gloves and blazer to head out into the dark night. Not before leaving a letter behind.

The moon overlooked the powerfully built man’s exit with a similar sorrow, it may have been trivial to others, after all Matthew and Ivan could meet again some other time, but Ivan had be waiting for this moments for decades, centuries and more. But he had to cancel his hotel booking and get his luggage and return to his solnyshko before he awoke.

Matthew muttered in his sleep, his mind lax from all the Russian man’s loving gestures and words.

“Ivan, what time is it?” Matthew mumbled hoping his soft voice would reach his lover’s ears. He opened his tired eyes to scout lazily for Ivan’s pastel grey hair and joyful amethyst orbs. He found nothing of that sort.

“Ivan?” Matthew repeated nervously, in the pit of his stomach he felt a mounting fear that all those sweet words, touches and gazes they had shared where visions. Visions of his new found wants from his more than a friend, Ivan. But it was so real that Matthew refused to believe that his mind could formula such genuine hallucinations. He stood up and reached from the glass table for his glasses, Ottowa, to confirm that Russia was somewhere in the house and that it was just his lack of eyesight that he could not spot Ivan. His breathe quickened, the wall seemed to suddenly close in as voices hissed into his ear merging together into a nauseating voice to unsettle his nerves.

“It was a dream, who would date an invisible person, no doubt if Ivan had the chance he would just leave you for someone like America, after all who would want a nation who can’t stand up for himself. You are just a fling, if you were really that popular you would think people would remember you. But they don’t. Why? Because you aren’t worth it.” Matthew whimpered, he feel to his knees onto the carpet, even its softness could not comfort the man’s turmoil, as he was mentally assaulted by his own insecurities. He shuddered as the fictional voice repeated slower to make sure the words registered in Canada’s mind. Every time the voice replayed it would laugh mockingly, as if uncaring of Canada’s feelings.

“Matvey!” Ivan had return just seconds ago, he entered silently thinking his solnyshko was still in a deep pleasant slumber. But instead he found Matthew rigid in a quivering cocoon of snivels and throaty sobs.

“Solnyshko!” Ivan let his suitcase go and leapt to his lover on the floor, his hands rubbing circles into Matthew’s back trying to pry his body apart, surprised at how strongly this petite body was fighting against being undone. He needed to see his lovers face, ask him what was wrong and bash that persona’s face into preferably Sasha (his faucet pipe of pain).

Matthew having returned to reality saw Ivan’s concerned and murderous face. Overridden with relief he tackled the larger man into a clingy hug. His fingers clawing at Ivan’s blazer to make sure Ivan was actually in front of him.

“Ivan, you left and I thought that…!” Matthew could not speak anymore as Ivan got the jest of his lover’s worries. His cries reduced to sniffles, his body stop shaking all an earthquake in Ivan’s sturdy hold and his breathing slowed to a healthier pace. Ivan rubbed strong circles into Matthew’s back and whispered assuring words into his ear.

“Matvey, look!” Ivan leaned back to reach for the glass table where Matthew had retrieved his glasses from, Matthew still hanging onto him when Ivan moved away not approving of separating from Ivan. In extravagant swirls and loops a clear message read ‘Solnyshko, I’m going to get my luggage from the hotel, don’t worry if you wake up alone, da!’ and all Matthew could do was stare at the words in confusion. In all the panic he had not noticed at obvious note.

“Désolé, Ivan, I panicked and I didn’t see the letter.” Matthew admitted mortified by his behaviour, his serene personality had just been switched to one that of an insecure school girl. His cheeks heated up like an oven to the point of no return.  
  
“Matvey no need to be sad! Da, I am happy you miss me so much.” This comment made no effort to reduce the heat in Matthew’s cheeks as he felt if this continues he will have permanently stained red cheeks. Until his mind wondered to Ivan’s paper, it was sweet and he hoped to get more of these types of notes, but where had Ivan got the paper from?  
  
“Ivan where did you get the paper from?” Ivan smiled bluntly with a dark threatening aura creeping up from behind his figure, his voice morphed into a more sinister sound as he chuckled.  
  
“Hy (Well), Matvey, I need paper pad to write down names if something zlopoluchnyy (unfortunate) were to happen…” The Russian ended cryptically, but his ominous laugh filled in the blanks quite well- Russia was scary when an enemy. From his blazer pocket he summoned an ordinary notepad which seems to have come near to the end of its life.  
  
“Ivan, I hope no one got hurt.” Matthew asked nervously, speaking against Russia was never one of his aptitudes.  
  
“Nyet moy Solnyshko, only bad children get hurt in Mat’ Rossiya.” Ivan leaned his forehead against Matthew’s in bliss, he thought only lunatics could ever love him but he somehow was gifted a sane person like Matthew.  
  
“Matvey, I’m so lucky to have you.” Matthew chuckled and shook his head.  
  
“Not as lucky as I am to have someone reliable as you to remember me.” Ivan giggled, only Russia was allowed to laugh at jokes Canada made on his invisibility.  
  
“Now, moy Solnyshko, I promised you dinner, da?” Canada nodded his mouth already salivating at the thought of having the Russian cook for him. Quickly scrambling off the man he did not wait for Ivan to stand as he picked up Ivan’s hand and proceeded to try and drag him to the kitchen.  
  
“Da, Solnyshko, I’m coming,” Ivan giggled with mirth. Matthew paused and furrowed his eyebrows at Ivan.  
  
“What is Sol-ni-sh-ko?” Ivan continued to laugh merrily and corrected Matthew with a fond look encasing his features.  
  
“Solnyshko means sunshine, Matvey is moy sunshine now, da?” Matthew shyly nodded. “Zato (But) Matvey, you did not tell me why you cried?” Matthew stiffened and turned his face away from Ivan’s affectionate gaze.  
  
“Matvey, pozhaluysta (please) tell me the truth.” Ivan kneeled kindly to bring their eyes to the same level.  
  
“Ivan, why me? I’m sure there are others better than me out there, who have their own voice!” Canada’s voice broke at intervals but he held a steady gaze to see a shock overcome Ivan. As if he had solved all of life’s problems Ivan laughed care freely. Canada gazed at Ivan, hurt as his heart clenched in pain.  
  
“Nyet, Solnyshko, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing because you do not see how perfect you are, it makes me more happy I have you as my better half.” Matthew bit his lip in confusion.  
  
“Then why?” He asked more hesitantly.  
  
“Moy Matvey is so kind, pure and beautiful he does not see how unique he is.” Ivan lunged forward to envelope Matthew into a tight hug. “Some say that the lower you fall the more you value others virtues. Matvey,” Ivan turned confidently to a distant point like a portal to his past had opened. But all that confidence crumbled away to be replaced with regret and unconditional sorrow.  
  
“Mat’ Rossiya has a very dark past Matvey, sometimes it comes back to me in the strangest times but I can never forget it. You, Solnyshko, are very young, and hate to be at war, I hoped that your light would help me forget my past and give me a new start. Everyone is quick to put Mat’ Rossiya down as a threat but Matvey’s heart is too kind, and I hope that one day Mat’ Rossiya can tell you, moy Solnyshko, all the bad things. And you will forgive Mat’ Rossiya and stay by his side.” Matthew nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of Ivan’s situation.  
  
“But until then, Matvey helps me be happy. And Mat’ Rossiya had already promised to keep Matvey safe so all Matvey has to do is smile at Mat’ Rossiya and everything will be fine!” Ivan concluded simply. Suddenly all of Matthew’s insecurities were blow away like dust. It made sense now, it did not matter if others did not see Matthew or Canada because Russia will always see him. And that was all that mattered right now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and give kudos as I feel encouraged to write more if I get a response but please do comment even if it is a small comment and tell me what you like or dislike. I want to hear my readers views as I write to help me improve.
> 
> THANK YOU AMERICA (GUEST) FOR GIVING ME SUCH A HEARTFELT COMMENT AND I APOLOGISE FOR THE LATE CHAPTER don't kill me!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

“Harry!” England woke with a start, his sleep fluctuating from secure dreams to chilling nightmare, this was the fifth time he been ripped out of his bed. Sweat making his loose night wear clingy, he gasped for air feeling his throat burn with the upcoming bile, forcing him to lunge from the cold carpet to his bathroom. Throwing the door open, without a care if it fell off its hinges, his fingers grabbed the toilet seat harshly, to the point his knuckles whitened with strain. His throat seared as fiery bile made its hard pressed journey up without struggle.

England gagged, his eyes because watery with the onslaught of pain he was enduring, mouth bitter from the acid and churned up remains of his roast dinner and Eton mess. His body became limp, having been drained from all his energy after having hurled all his dinner out. His eyes wondered, after having blinked out all the tears, to the vomit which was supposed to be a sickening yellow-green. But to his shock it was mixed with a gut clinching red, his blood. He had hacked up blood.

He darted forward and flushed the floating lumps of his dinner and red tinted vomit down. ‘ _I can’t wait anymore, we are going to have to speed up this mission or the symptoms will get worst._ ’ England recollected with horror. He stood up, his hands relying on the walls support to steady his shaking feet, staggering slowly to his bed. He grabbed his phone and unlocked it, after several tried as his quivering fingers wouldn’t cooperate to the point he was ready to throw his phone out the window, and dialled his Parliament.

“This is Alice Dixon, how can I help you?” England smiled at the woman’s cheeriness, considering she was being called at three in the morning.

“Alice…hey.” England grated out, frowning as his voice cracked.

“Sir Kirkland!” She exclaimed but giggled apologetically on the phones, her colleagues giving her disapproving stares when having found out who she was talking too. “How can I help?” Her voice becoming more formal.

England could not help but chuckle at her shock. “Alice can you put me through to Annabelle Blacach, The Scottish Diplomat.” A hum on the other side as she spoke a polite farewell.

“Putting you through now,” the phone once again returned to ringing. After a few more seconds England started to regret his call. His rational side kicked in as he berated himself, ‘ _Why am I dragging people into my personal problems! She could be sleeping after a long day and I’m calling her at, what, three in the morning?_ ’ but an irritated greeting shot down his thought.

“Kirkland ye better hae a guid reason fur callin’ me!?” The Scottish accent strong as if holding England to gun point.

England opened his jaw but no words came out until he composed himself after an irritated huff on the other side of the line registered in England’s head.

“Whose given you a black mood?” England asked, having forgotten his internal turmoil in favour of helping a friend, after all that was how England was, how Arthur Kirkland behaved. It takes a very observant person to notice if England had problems as he always wore a gentleman’s mask who put other’s feelings before his.

“Yer older brither 'at is th' problem. he woke me up a body in th' morn, Ah repeat a body in th' morn tae dae whit. sae th' coontry? Nae! Teel me abit international issues which hae majur repercussion? Nae! mebbe e'en a riot ur th' start ay a cult crew wantin' tae tak' ower uir coontry? Nae! Nae! Nae! 'at scabby bassa wanted tae gab abit whiskey?! Whiskey!? O laird main he meit his match sooner!” (1) England being used to hear Allistor swear faster than the speed of sound travelling in air translated the rant easily. He laughed bitterly at Annabelle’s problem, having also be on the receiving in of Allistor’s incomprehensible demands.

“I apologise on my brothers behalf Annabelle, he can be a bit too much at times.” England pacified the raging woman with the single sentence.

“Reit. Sorry Ah went aff oan a tangent, whit is it ye needed?” Annabelle’s voice softened and England smiled, he hand not lost his touch on appeasing others.

“I need you step on the gas on that document making. And can you come over by tomorrow? I want to get to Hogwart’s before anyone catches a whiff of my strange behaviour.” England urged, his voice not masking his desperation. The line went silent for a good minute.

“Ah gie it. I'll be thaur afair fife in th' efternuin if Ah start noo.” England sighed in relief.

“I know I’m being very pushy Annabelle, but I can’t take this. Don’t tell Scotland, you know he can be.” England added the condition awkwardly, he knew he was famous in Allistor’s Parliament for their complicated relationship.

“Ah ken th' protocol.” Annabelle helpfully supplied, as if she had recited this oath to the point she did not have to think about how to answer. “But he will ken yer in his coontry when ye pass th' border.” Before England could argue he knew the full abilities of a country Annabelle took the defensive stance, “Aam jist sayin'. Anyway see ye later, bide alife.” England furrowed his eyebrows, ‘What does she mean stay alive?’ He looked at his phone in confusion.

Now to have someone to act as a buffer between him and America when he goes missing… ‘DYLAN!’ England thought. Dylan was Wales’ and the only one England trusted the most out of the three older brothers. All three options were the worst, considering they all took personal joy in bullying England when younger, but Wales had toned down his resentment to England and often gifts him exquisite tea.

“Strange of you to call me little brother? Also at such a strange time.” A perfectly British accented voice spoke on the other line. And this was not England speaking but Wales mind you. England too was mortified at first but Wales had assured him he just felt that sounding British meant England and he could interact more. Strange reasoning but England thought that Wales was trying to not come off intimidating as in the past England used to run away when hearing a Welsh, Irish or Scottish accent, fearing it was his brothers looking to bully him.

“Yes, I know, but I wanted to ask a favour.” Wales immediately leaned into the phone and slowly drawled out.

“Depends.” Wales spoke carefully. England furrowed his eyebrows at the cautious tone Wales took on.

“I’m not asking you to lose a screw Wales.” England groaned out in annoyance.

“Right…” England still felt Wales was not convinced but continued anyway, Ireland would not pick up his phone and Scotland would most likely be drunk at this time.

“You have heard about this guy called Voldemort right?” England hoped Wales did not pry too much.

“How could I not know? Allistor’s been very informative in his drunken state.” Wales answered helpfully with a grim tone, England thanked the stars he would not have to go into detail. But still whatever Scotland had said have better been true or else Wales would not cooperate. His mission relied on others not interfering with his plans.

“I’m going to hunt him down.” England blurted out.

“What…” England ran his fingers through his hair frustration.

“I’m going to go to Hogwart’s and I don’t want anyone extra hitch-hiking a ride without me knowing. Just keep them off my back.”

“Woah wait what do I say.” Wales sounded confused, having just been told to make a plan to fool a full grown nation the size of America, the relationship they had was closer than Wales could ever hope to get close to England.

“I’m sure after all the convincing lies you told me to get me to fall for your tricks endlessly you could trick some of those oafs. See to it that you make an excuse that Canada is hanging out with that highlander.” The line went deadly silent, England was not known to hold grudges but he was delving deep into the past. England’s voice had been cruel and remorseless, but he prided himself in his honestly.

“I’ll see what I can do.” England nodded, his words had obviously affected Wales as his voice was empty. “You know I want to make up for it?” Wales ended expectantly.

“I know.” England cut the call without politely dismissing himself. He had stood up in frustration now he sunk onto the ground. He wished someone was there to hold him, comfort his anxiety and reassure him that he was not standing alone.

On that cue his phone buzzed with a message. ‘It’s America…’ England did not know what to expect from his former colony but read it none the less, his parental instincts yearning to be closer to his child.

‘Yo, Artie I saw u at the meetin and u didn’t say a thing, are u fine?’ The first thing England thought was ‘Why is he up so late?’ so logically he scolded America for not sleeping properly like any sane parent.

‘Yeah bt ur awake too!?’ England groaned. But another message chilled him to the bone.

‘Artie, man, u didn’t look too good at the meetin do I need to, like, call a doctor?’ England gulped, seems like his symptoms were so obvious that even America noticed. So he quickly replied saying it had just caught a bug, like a flu, from all the rain his country was having.

‘Yeah bt u never sit all quiet even not telling me to shut up!’ England felt his hands sweat in fear, America was getting too attentive for his own good. He replied angrily that he didn’t need anyone to look after him, being the older on and all.

‘kay dude chillax ;)’ The smiley face did not help England calm down at all.

‘kay got to go, mr prez is all up my ass cause of some shit abt the economy…’ England rose a heavy eyebrow and swore to himself, America was texting him in a briefing with his President. He replied with a severe scolding but it back lashed on him greatly.

‘don’t care, ur more important than my economy and mr prez anyway, see ya he’s lookin at me now’ England stared at that last text message with narrowed eyes. These types of texts had been occurring more frequently between him and America recently. Before it was simply like wanting to hang out more outside meetings, then it became more personal like catching America staring at him fixatedly at meetings and finally paying more attention to England altogether. It felt good to be noticed outside of meets by another, it made going to meetings slightly more enjoyable, but America was border lining obsession now. America would now always look at him for guidance or approval, like to days when America was his favourite colony. It made him scared. It made him happy. It made him confused.

One of the questions was ‘Why now?’ England was still trying to decipher.

A warm waft of enticing roused Canada out of his sleep gently, he had been waking up like this for a while now. He swept his eyes around the room to try and shake off his sleep. Slowly leaning forward to get up he analysed his surroundings lazily, not yet reaching for his glasses and enjoying the welcoming warmth of a new day washing over him.

“Utro (Morning) Solnyshko.” Matthew smiled warming at the blurry figure of the large Russian. The blur chuckled and reached the bed side table and grabbed Matthew’s glasses and tenderly placed them onto Matthew’s nose.

His vison became crystal clear to notice the man was already dressed and ready for the day. Ivan childishly smiled as Matthew made no effort to stop his eyes from checking out Ivan’s wear. Crisp clean dark brown and white checked top, sandy brown cargo trousers and black fur lined cleated boots. Not forgetting his signature pink tinted scarf wrapped securely around his neck Ivan looked heavenly. Matthew could easily picture Ivan as a CEO of a famous company, if not a country, and he would be an awkward teenager and they would meet somehow an- woah Matthew blinked rapidly, what was he thinking?

“Matvey?” Matthew looked up to be meet with an up-close shot of Ivan who was leaning down to capture his lips. His muscles immediately relaxed under Ivan’s ministrations, letting lose an odd content moan in between, while his heart accelerated over an imaginary speed limit, of course with how fast it was going it did not feel safe but Matthew was too infatuated with the feeling he was willing to overwork his heart for more heated kisses like this.

Ivan was literally soaring, he could just feel the wind rush against his cheeks, and admire the gorgeous sight of the rising sun on his bright future. He pushed forward to have Matthew against the wall and seat himself on the bed. His movement causing Matthew to tip backwards into the wall, the bed sinking as the heavier man settled himself onto Matthew’s bed, the wall pressing firmly against his head.

Ivan pulled away with a smile, watching Matthew huff for air while his cheeks caught fire. Flustered he glanced up nervously to see Ivan beam as if Matthew was his work of art, obviously Ivan was enjoying pushing Matthew out his comfort zone to the point he took pleasure in it. Before Matthew could complain a mellow buzz broke the domestic atmosphere.

“It’s Mr. Britain.” Matthew provided Ivan with an answer to Ivan’s curious gaze. He unlocked his phone and read the message speedily.

“Looks like Mr. Britain wants us to meet up at his house for formalities in the documentation and general plan making, instead of using email like he said we would.” Matthew continued nervously, he gazed up worried for his father, “You don’t think he is hurt or worse?!”

Ivan shook his head with a positive smile. “England is a strong country, da. He will not get hurt easily.” Matthew’s nerves were calmed instantly, Ivan placed a loving kiss on his forehead before getting up. “We must leave early if we want to check up on England.” Matthew nodded and watched Ivan leave the room. He sighed contently and looked down, and blushed heavily at his maple leaf decorated red pyjamas, something he would never get over is his constant embarrassment of being mocked, but he knew Ivan would never do that.

Finishing his morning rituals he made his way down. Ivan glanced up from the newspaper blatantly assessing Matthew’s attire. Matthew timidly seated in front of Ivan as if to wait for Ivan’s thoughts. He wore a white and red two toned shirt, navy blue ripped skinny jeans which hugged his body tightly much to Ivan’s approval and a pair of clean red and white high top sneakers. Ivan did not hide his praise and boldly leaned forward to place an appreciative kiss on Matthew’s lips. It did not turn heated but it was a simple peck on the cheeks. Matthew having no limit on how red he could turn in one moment continued to succumb into Ivan’s sweet seduction.

“Da, Matvey looks very good in ripped jeans, I can see his skin, will you wear them more?” Ivan pushed forward innocently. Matthew gasped, scandalous at Ivan’s proclamation and pushed his feet together under the table and used his palms to hide the rips in his jeans.

“Ivan!” Matthew shouted with the volume of a whisper. Ivan watched with a cheeky grin at how Matthew strongly reacted to his statement and laughed off the burning of Matthew’s cheeks.

“I was joking moy Solnyshko. We should eat fast to get to England’s house fast, da?” Matthew stared at Ivan, still not sure of he should trust Ivan when he looks away, but his stomach grumbled rudely and suddenly his nose filled with the warm waft of something nutty. Matthew glanced down to see his plate with one pancake type layer topped with a mixture of fish, cream, egg and onion. ‘Strange…’ was Matthew’s first reaction.

“It is Blini, a crepe made in Mat’ Rossiya!” Ivan introduced energetically, “Salmon, sour cream, onions and a few shots of vodka, no blini is done without vodka.” Matthew gazed at his breakfast apprehensively and looked up at Ivan as if looking for some indication of how he should react to alcohol in his breakfast.

“Worry not Matvey, vodka is for favour you won’t feel sick.” Ivan rested is nerves and went back to his newspaper calmly sipping on a mug smelling of strongly brewed black coffee. Matthew poked his food and took a deep breathe. He gathered the topping in a wrapping of the blini and took a firm bite into the piece, not holding back the surprised hum which resonated from his throat. Ivan who was secretly smiling behind the newspaper giggled slyly hearing the repeated clang of metal and ceramic plates touched mixed in with more admiring hums of approval.

Matthew had not tasted these types of pancakes before, ever. The nutty flavour of the blini, the creaminess of the sauce, the salty tinge brought by the smoked salmon, the crunchy explosion of onions though the vodka was almost none existence in the dish altogether except for a slight reminiscence of sweetness left in his mouth.

“Ivan, why can’t you be a cook?!” Matthew praised as Ivan chuckled and folded the newspaper away with a broad smile.

“Da, then who will look after Mat’ Rossiya?” Matthew giggled understandingly. He stood and placed all the dishes in the sink and cleared away any mess on the table, which was none as Ivan had considerately wiped it down for Matthew’s piece of mind. Ivan stretched, swinging his arms around, flexing his muscles and proceeded to put on his retraining coat, seeing as it was stiff and hard to move in. Matthew gazed at the cost, which was in great condition counting how old the material seemed. Matthew however grabbed a waterproof parka, which he always brought when visiting England no matter the season, and slipped it on only to reach out from the small cupboard, where all the coats were stored.

“Ivan try this.” Matthew picked out a tan trench coat, the material thinner than his usual coat saving Ivan from overheating and the fabric was more flexible allowing more movement. Ivan gawked between Matthew and the coat in his hand but pulled of his coat to try the new one. Turning around stiffly he spread his arms and rearranged his scarf, after all it was his top priority when it can to dressing. The colours of his original coat and his new coat were not far enough for one to take notice, the new one fitting his body like a glove, but he did not bother to button it up, liking the way it added to his prim and proper charm.

“Keep it.” Matthew said fondly watching the larger man test the waters and smoothed out the material as he nervously assessing Matthew’s reaction.

“Da, you are sure, moy Solnyshko?” Ivan jumped forward to pull Matthew into a sensitive hug. Spinning the youngster in dizzy circles like it was nothing extraordinary. Having underestimated Ivan’s strength, Matthew yelped in shock at the sudden rush of air and change in gravity. Being placed down dramatically Matthew managed to collect his scattered thoughts.

“Oui, it is for you Ivan. I saw how you always seem to wear the traditional coat when out of work, this should work better outside of meeting and also when in hot places, can’t have you burning up on me.” Ivan’s orbs glazed over to glimmer mimicking jaded byzantium jewels. A sight to behold as Matthew immediately felt loss of breathe only to jump in his skin when Ivan swooped down to steal another kiss from him. Dazed without a doubt Matthew was encased gently and willingly in Ivan’s arms while being lead out like a treasured figure to be escorted with the utmost care to a secure destination.

A feeling he was more than comfortable to welcome into his daily life. As long it was Ivan, mind you.

A knock on his door pulled England out his fatigued stupor, he grumbled in irritation before retracting from his comfortable position on the sofa to answer the door. Fortunately it was Canada and Russia smiling kindly back at him, well as normal as Russia’s smile could get, and he brought them in and collapsed into the sofa again.

“Thanks for coming on such short notice Canada.” The boy looked up from his seat next to Russia with an understanding nod.

“I wanted to get this Harry Potter business out of the way.” England reached forward for his tea and sipped it as calmly as he could. Russia was laid back, not a single ounce of strain visible of his features, however England was the complete opposite. The man slouched, which England never does as it is very unbecoming of a gentleman, and his skin was ghostly pale, empty of any warmth. Large bags of fear driven nightmares weighed down his gorgeous vivid moss green eyes now dulling them into a murky green.

Canada could imagine America flipping tables if he found out about England’s situation, and Canada did not want to be part of America’s rage so the sooner they get England better the more the chances of America not finding out.

“Mr. Britain have you thought of a way to distract America and Papa?” England confirmed wearily.

“I had Dylan act as my representative to slow that twat down, but Russia you need to make your own excuse, that too logical, so Belarus and Ukraine don’t have a fit when they find you missing.” Russia scratched his head thoughtfully, looking upwards as if concentrating on thinking of an answer, Matthew could not help but watch with fondness as Ivan tried to crack the problem with a playful hum. England, who was previously watching Russia in disbelief, turned his sights to Canada only to raise an eyebrow at the subtle change in Canada’s features as he gazed lost in Russia’s actions. England carried on observing Canada until the younger nation painted his cheeks a magnificent red when he was caught by Russia.

“Da, I have idea. My president is performing a journey over Mat’ Rossiya to visit every main city. It is a good excuse to say I’m going with him.” England hummed.

“We might have to tell your lies at different moments. Canada your with me, I had Dylan tie in your excuse with me, so right now your helping me get in touch with my magic roots by helping me visit some random place America and that frog won’t bat there lashes to. They don’t care about magic so America will not respond however the Frog is harder. I’ll see it to myself the Frog doesn’t get involved but onto the main course. Our plan for Hogwarts.” England sighed and pushed back the nausea to concentrate on the task at hand.

“Firstly Harry Potter, the protagonist of this mess,” England mumbled wearily, “he is the son of Lily and James Potter. A half-blood wizard only to be robbed of his childhood when a year and three months old, he witnessed his parent’s murder and be alive because of his mother’s sacrifice.” Canada reached out to grip Russia’s leg on reflex and squeeze tight, Russia seeming serious without emotion other than thoughtfulness on England’s account covered Canada’s hand for comfort. Russia, though not showing if he was deeply moved, could relate to Potter’s life with the absence of his parents.

“Who did he live with then?” Canada asked, his voice shuddering in sorrow for Potter’s dark youth.

“He was given to his mother’s, Lily Potter, sister Petunia, who is a muggle and also married a muggle. Harry was not told the truth behind his parent’s death neither of his wizardry abilities. He was abused, to put it bluntly, because Petunia feared his abilities and therefore starved, beat and verbally abused him.” Canada shifted closer to Russia instinctively for a sense of security. England reached for his tea to dilute the bitter tone in his voice with Earl Grey.

“He was then invited to Hogwarts, the magic school, to study and that is all to say, if we go into detail we will be here for weeks on end, so let us begin fabricating out backgrounds. By five in the evening to complete formalities.” England put down his cup and nodded towards Canada.

“We can start first, and then add in Russia later on, the school you’re going to is called Ilvermorny and located on Mount Greylock in Massachusetts.” England leaned forward, “You need to know, and I mean it is basic knowledge you should have cemented into your head, that it is a granite stone house made by Isolt Sayre and James Steward originally to be their home. When it eventually became a school, the cottage was expanded several times until it became a castle. The front doors are adorned with marble statues of Sayre and Steward on either side. It is concealed by several enchantments which make the school seem like a wreath of misty cloud to non-magical beings. Have that memorised.” Canada nodded and repeated it only to be corrected by England multiple times. Russia shook his head, like he was the sanest person around, and pulled out his notepad, as if it held all the answers to the universe, and with an ink pen he wrote down what England repeated in neat English.

  
“I have it written down, moy Solnyshko. No need to cram it, da.” Canada turned and thanked Russia profusely before turned to an amused England.

  
“Well you might want skim over the history in the books I have Canada, but now we move onto the story. Seeing how you are, son, you would most likely end up in Wampus which is a house for warriors represented by a Wampus of course.” Russia continued to scribble onto the paper as England progressed on, “Remember to look up their uniform, history of the house, relation with other houses, founder of the house, subject content and of course how the sorting happens.” Canada whimpered, internally, at how much he will have to memorise hoping his skills had not dimmed with the years. He was already proficient in magic, having taken interest in the field when England was his father but was sworn to secrecy as America feared the unknown to the point he did not go near England for a few days when he showed them magic. England had to lie and explain that he wanted to surprise America also that Canada already knew the trick and had only played along.

  
“Russia on the other hand will come from Koldovstoretz and Dumbledore will be quick to deem you a valuable student to his collect if he accepts you. This Russian school, I unfortunately have nothing other than rumours to say,” England looked at Russia with a curious gleam in his eyes, “perhaps you would like to address this problem I have Russia?” Of course the question was open to disagreement and Russia chuckled at how good his school was at keeping off the radar.

  
“What would you like to know?” England sipped his tea, his hand shaking with anticipation.

  
“Where is the school?” England enquired with a measure gaze. Russia looked thoughtful, England was irritated having to wait for Russia but Canada saw through the act and watched Russia fun joy in England’s irritation. Having had enough Russia decided he would put England out his misery.

“Kamchatka Peninsula.” Russia replied easily. England furrowed his eyebrows and repeated the name in his head to remember. Canada curious about Russia’s abilities asked with wide eyes.

“Ivan,” England snapped to the duo not used to hearing Canada being so intimate with Russia, “what is like in your school?” Russis turned to Canada with soft eyes, as if Canada’s request was unquestionable to dispute.

“The students are sorted into two sets, protectors and aggressors then are sorted into houses: Voronin, Aritov, Grigoriev and Romanov.” England furrowed his eyebrows but did not question only wanting to absorb all this knowledge. Canada on the other hand was fascinated and leaned in. Russia seeing Canada move closer took this as a good sign.

“Voronin’s are leaders by nature and strategic talents, Aritov’s are idealistic and optimistic in their notions, Grigoriev’s are analytical thinkers and calm under pressure and finally Romanov’s risk takers by blood and very devoted until odds are out of their favour. One person from each house is taken and housed together to form a unit, they see each other from morning to night, performing daily routines together. This way my children know how to behave with each other, duel together and help each other. The rest is not very different from your school England.” Russia summarized smugly, overall Russia’s school seemed to have more depth in it altogether when England compared their schools.

“What house where you in, Ivan?” Canada asked eagerly.

“I took part in every house Matvey.” Canada’s smile flattered so Russia quickly added, “But I was first sorted into Romanov’s.” And Canada seemed to brighten up immediately.

“That would make sense.” Canada mumbled. England watched warily, he knew for Canada’s behaviour that something had changed but he should have seen it coming after visiting the two, following the day he visited the two seemed to be dancing along the cliff of close friends and practically begging to be pushed into the bottomless pit called love.

“Canada we need to work out our family tree,” England points to the two males with a smirk promising mayhem, “I’ll just have to perform a de-aging spell on you two, seeing as Russia isn’t going to be seen as a 15 to 16 year old anytime soon.” Canada chuckled but Russia shook his head, scandalous at the idea.

“Nyet, I will not be made smaller!” He flipped over the head of the sofa and hide behind it only peaking up momentary. Canada exploded into bigger fits of laughter and England could not help but let a smile twitch on his lips.

“Ivan you have to look younger or else how will they except you!” Canada exclaimed between his laughs while peering behind the sofa to see the man shaking his head profusely, Canada just hoped it would not pop off. England having had enough drama cleared his throat to get their attention.

“No need to worry Russia, I will simply be altering your figure so you will look younger but your body will still retain your strength, diligence and magical abilities.” Russia peeked up and watched England for a few moments and nodded. Carefully seating himself next to Canada.

“Da, then there is no problem!” Russia brightly complied. England was surprised, normally he would expect a pipe to the face but Russia was just acting plain immature, maybe Canada has something to do with his behaviour.

“Canada you will be my son, of course, and Russia you will be Canada’s pen pal and met because I am acquainted with Russia’s family. Both of you have score highest on average in all your subjects that is why you were chosen to take part in this project. Annabelle, the Wizardry ambassador for Scotland, will fabricate the papers to say you, Canada, are from Ilvermorny and with the grades that I say. I educated you enough when you were younger so there will be no problem. Russia I trust you are up to date with everything.” Russia nodded in assurance.

“Well the all that is left is to get Canada to memorise his school details.” Canada whimpered, somehow knowing that England would demand perfection. England stood and addressed them again.

“And then we can have a chat about you, Russia, dating my son.” Canada’s breath hitched as he watched England stare down an equally serious Russia.

“Fukeneh…” Was all he could manage.

(1)“Your older brother that is the problem. He woke me up one in the morning, I repeat one in the morning to do what. Save the country? No! Tell me about international issues which have major repercussion? No! Maybe even a riot or the start of a cult group wanting to take over our country? NO! NO! NO! That scabby bassa wanted to talk about whiskey?! Whiskey!? O Lord may he meet his match sooner!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and give kudos as I feel encouraged to write more if I get a response but please do comment even if it is a small comment and tell me what you like or dislike. I want to hear my readers views as I write to help me improve.


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